Shattered
by squeekness
Summary: Did Kimble survive being melted? The Xmen try to find out. Part 13 of my Kimble series.
1. Chapter 1

Summary : Did Kimble survive being melted? The X-men try to find out. Part 13 of my Kimble series.

Notes : Rated M for language, violence, and sexual situations.

AU but only because I chose to change a few things in my dear friends' histories for simplification, nothing drastic so please forgive. I've been working on this story for years so I do ask that you don't use any of my non-Marvel universe characters without my permission. I love my Siskans as I do my children.

Art is up for New Beginnings on my website if anyone is interested.

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(One)

Remy was out cold asleep in his bed when his door burst open and he was blinded by his own bedroom light. He snapped awake and jerked upright, bringing three lit cards to bear without even knowing who his intruder was.

"Yer a jumpy boy there, Cajun," Logan growled. He cocked his head slightly. Remy's chest was bare and it still freaked him out a little to see Remy's scars. It was a reminder of just how resilient his teammate was. Folks just don't walk away from Sabretooth like that.

"What's goin' on?" Gambit wheezed, struggling to get his brain moving.

"Yer boy's in trouble again. What a surprise."

Remy groaned and put the sizzling and half burnt cards into an ashtray next to his bed. "What he done now?"

"He's been sneakin' out, but I guess you wouldn't know anything about that."

Gambit just glared at him.

"He was down at Chester's. Kennedy saw him get nabbed by Sabretooth and Davis."

"What dey want wit 'im?" Remy asked rhetorically. He couldn't imagine the answer to that.

"Wait, this just gets better. They drag him out and guess who's waiting?"

Remy still wasn't quite awake. "No clue."

"Kyle Franks and his gang."

"Non. Dat can't be possible. Dat would mean ---"

"—That our boy's the one Jael's been lookin' for all this time? It kinda looks that way from here."

Remy just shook his head. "Uh uh. Kimble ain't nobody," he protested.

"Well, he must be somebody to them. They had a big nasty fight, coupla folks got killed. Kennedy says Kimble got hit by plasma and was melted."

"Melted!" Remy repeated and came fully awake as a wave of fear hit him. "Is 'e okay?"

"Don't know. Kyle seemed to think he was salvageable. He scooped up what was left and flew off with it."

"Jesus..."

Gambit put his head down and covered his eyes. Kimble just couldn't be dead. No way. Remy couldn't bear another death on his head, not now.

"The Professor wants everyone down in the War Room, pronto."

"Bien entendu. I'll be dere. Jus' give me a minute."

Logan nodded and left.

Gambit reached for his cigarettes and lit one, trying to control his shaking hands. He was so busted. There was no way they would believe Kimble got out on his own. Gambit was determined not to run this time, he was responsible and he would own up to it. Kimble had needed to get out, the real question was would they understand why.

He sat for a minute, thinking as hard as he could. What would Jael possibly want with Kimble and how did he know about him in the first place? It wasn't impossible that there were spies in the Xavier camp, it had happened before, but that didn't explain all this interest in Kimble. When Kyle Franks first flew in, Kimble hadn't been off the grounds yet. Maybe Jael and Kyle had someone with the Sight or something hinky like that.

Remy couldn't sit here forever. He got up and dressed quickly, crushing out his cigarette before leaving. He made his way down to the lower level and slunk into the big War Room, his head down and eyes low. He expected to get chewed out, but the Professor only looked at him and said telepathically, _You okay?_

_I'm good, 'Fessor. Let's just find 'im._

Charles turned to the group and brought them all up to date on what had happened. Kennedy was there at the bar and had called the Professor right away, giving him a full report. He went over the quick battle and the fact that Kimble got hit with a plasma burst. The last thing he saw was Kimble — or what was left of him — being carried off. Kennedy was still out in the field now, trying to track Kyle down and where he may have gone.

Fallen shook with fear through the whole story. When the Professor finished, she turned to the crowd. "Plasma is very bad for the hologram components. It's much too hot for Kimble's inner core to handle," she said, her eyes red from crying. "He probably didn't make it."

"Kyle musta t'ought sumptin' was up," Gambit replied, trying to be optimistic. " 'E took off wit Kimble dere."

"Perhaps because Kimble had been altered in Ristle surge he is now different enough to have survived the plasma blast," Henry suggested.

"Why was Kimble sneaking off in the first place?" Cyclops complained, accusation in his voice. He focused his impatience in Gambit's direction.

"I tol' you guys what Kimble needed. You didn' listen. I took 'im once, it wasn't enough. He found some more on 'is own," Remy explained defensively, his tone a little sharp.

"How long has he been sneaking out?" Bobby asked.

Gambit squirmed when all the eyes in the room turned to him. "Don' know. Coupla, t'ree weeks mebbe. 'E was 'idin' it even from me."

"But you still knew about it, right?" Rogue challenged. "You knew and said nothing."

Remy sighed and took out a stick of gum. Logan rolled his eyes in dismay before the thief even began to speak. _Always with the stupid gum. Gambit's in the shit now and he knows it._

"Gambit knew 'e was goin', oui. When 'e need sumptin' it always comes down to me, n'est ce pas? 'E was gonna go anyways, already been out a few times 'fore I caught 'im sneakin' in. Gambit jus' made sure 'e was doin' it safe, is all."

"Wasn't too safe, huh? I mean somebody still came along and took him," Rogue snapped, not letting it go.

" 'Ey! Nobody tol' me de whole worl' be lookin' for 'im! If I'd known, I never woulda 'elped 'im!" Remy barked defensively. His red eyes burned at her and his fingers twitched, itching for a fight.

"Easy, easy, people," Charles said, raising his hands. "Arguing like this isn't going to help."

"Is he some kind of sexual addict? I mean most of us can do without," Scott continued impatiently when the two combatants had settled down in their respective corners. He just didn't understand Kimble's need at all. They shouldn't have to be dealing with this crap, really.

"Kimble need de love to keep 'im sane. Dat's it. 'E don' get it, 'e go crazy, comprenez? De more stressed out 'e is, de more 'e need it to smooth out," Remy answered aggressively, still on the defensive. How many times did he have to explain all this? He glared at Scott, abusing the gum in his mouth.

"What's Kimble got to be stressed out about? It's not like he had any responsibilities or anything," Scott challenged sarcastically.

"Maybe he needed some," Charles interrupted. "Perhaps he took the recent deaths harder than we thought. He is empathic. They feel things on a whole other level. I thought I had made myself clear about that," he ended just as impatiently as Remy. It seemed like emotional issues were difficult for this group of serious people to understand.

"What matters now is findin' the little bugger," Logan said, not wanting to argue anymore. It was time to get to work.

"Yes, and to do that I will need all of your help. Remy, I want you and Logan to do a search of Kimble's quarters. Find out what you can. Maybe there's something there that can help us. Take Fallen with you."

"Oui, patron."

"The rest of you I want in the City. Groups of two or three. The thing is, if for some reason you should find Jael, **do not confront him**. We don't need a repeat of what happened the last time. This is a fact finding mission and may take some time. We want to free Kimble, but we do this by the numbers and no one will get hurt."

"What are we looking for?" Cyclops wanted to know.

"Any of the Seekers. I want to know where Cameron Bishop is."

"Mais, dat's de easy part," Remy piped in. "He run de Ricochet. It's a sex Club in Manhattan. De meilleure qualite'. Si beau, si magnifique, best girls in town, les meilleures putains." His eyes were gleaming and he had to pause, a bit carried away at the thought of the women there. He made a show of it, all the better to raise the ire of his ex. He shrugged with playful arrogance as he noted with satisfaction that Rogue's face had flushed and her eyes now stabbed into him with an angry jealousy.

"Just stick with the details, Gumbo," Logan grumbled, but his eyes were merry.

Satisfied with his game, Gambit continued, "Cameron own de whole buildin'. It's very exclusive, gotta 'ave a pass to go more dan de firs' floor. Dere's six floors in all, Five an' Six floor, dem's fo' mutant clientele only. Dat's where 'e works 'is people. Dey trainin' jus' like us. Penthouse up top a' dat, nice big slider on the east side. If Kyle an' Kim come in flyin', prob'ly go in dat way," he offered helpfully, smiling mischievously as Rogue's eyes continued to bore into him. The unspoken question, _Just how did you know this?_

Charles paused a moment, biting back a compliment on Gambit's valuable inside information. This was a mixed group and not Remy on his own. The Inner Circle members of this group didn't always know the extent of Xavier's covert activities and he liked to keep it that way. Remy had been most valuable to Charles in much the same way as Kennedy, as someone who kept tabs on who was doing what out there. While Charles hadn't sent Gambit to specifically spy on Cameron before, it was helpful that the thief had kept up his contacts. It was telling that Gambit had been so free with what he had discovered on his own, it made Charles trust him all the more.

He spoke to the group, "Then I want the place watched. No one goes in until we know for sure Kimble is there. We are dealing with some very serious people. I don't want anyone hurt that doesn't need to be."

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Remy stood in Kimble's room and looked around, trying to remember what it all looked like just a couple of days before. He explored Kimble's tiny area with his eyes, looking for what could possibly be out of place. It all appeared to be in order.

Logan idly leaned in the doorway. He figured this was Remy's gig and would let him have first crack at checking the place out. Fallen had come with them, but she left them to speak with Seth in the hopes that maybe his brother had seen something.

Remy ran a hand through his hair, focusing his concentration. Kimble didn't have a night stand or a dresser, all he had was the bed and the table. He had seen Kimble drawing before, but didn't see any of his art stuff out and he guessed Kimble must have a hiding place somewhere. Remy crouched down and looked under the bed, smiling when he saw what he'd been seeking. He slid out the long wooden lockbox and sat back on his heels, not sure he wanted to know what was inside. It took him all of two seconds to pick the lock. He opened the box and his eyes went wide. He wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't this.

The box was filled with junk, organized junk neatly folded. Kimble had been busy, stealing things from all over the house. Remy was no fool. Kimble was stealing pieces of the alphas for himself in his desperate need to belong.

Logan had seen enough to move away from the door and come closer now. He crouched down next to Remy and pulled out one of Jean's bras. By itself, it was enough to anger him, but blended in with the motley collection of X-men effects in front of him, it meant something else. Kimble had wanted so much to be a part of them, but he hadn't been good enough. To compensate, he took a small piece of everybody and kept it in a box under his bed. It was horrible, pathetic and sad.

"This kid's got some trouble," he whispered softly, and put the piece of Jean back in the box.

Remy's voice was pained as he replied, "I tol' y'all what 'is trouble is. Don' nobody listen, though. All he want is a place ta be, where he ain't all alone or treated like dirt."

"Hey, nobody treated him bad. He brought his own trouble."

"De faible la chose, he a lost boy, Wolvie. He ain't no pervert. De rest of you so hung up on your stupid morals, you judge him all wrong."

"He had his paws on a kid. A fourteen year old kid. I can judge that one easy."

"Non. Dat's jus' Kimble not wantin' ta be alone."

"That's a fuckin' pervert gettin' his hands on fresh meat. It is what it is."

"Whatever," Remy snapped back at him, not wanting to argue.

Remy sniffed and pawed through the box some more. He saw Kurt's Bible and was a bit angry that Kimble would take something so valuable, but then saw that Kurt had left an inscription inside, the book had been a gift. Kimble hadn't gotten far. He had started not with The New Testament as Kurt had suggested, but at the beginning of the Bible with the Old. He had read as far as the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah and stopped, no big surprise there to Remy. As soon as those of an unconventional sexual nature were being punished, Kimble had lost interest. Kurt should have known better, Remy thought, but wouldn't comment.

Gambit lay the book aside and pawed further through the box. What he saw next took his breath away. He closed his eyes, trying to control his hurt and rage. He'd seen his shirt, the one he'd been so certain Rogue had taken. It was the last nail in the coffin of his hope that she would ever return to him.

"You all right?" Logan softly growled, sensing the change in Remy's mood.

"Bien entendu, oui," Gambit replied sadly. He looked down at all things the pilot had collected and saw Kimble's broken heart. "No one's gonna know about dis," he ordered.

"I ain't gonna tell nobody," Logan said. "What he took ain't worth gettin' the others all riled up."

Gambit reached in and pulled out the drawing pad. He flipped through a few pages and started to quietly laugh as he saw, sketched in black and white, Kimble's deepest desire for him. He shook his head in a useless denial. What else could he do? The pictures were painstakingly detailed and sexually explicit. No mistaking who Kimble had in mind to please and in what manner. Remy saw his own face and knew the truth of Kimble's desire. Not one of the pictures had Kimble depicted as a woman, he wanted Remy as a man. Gambit cocked his head and squinted at some of them, trying to visualize what Kimble had in mind. He wasn't sure all that Kimble had portrayed was even physically possible, but he figured Kimble probably knew better than he did.

Gambit looked up at Logan's face, but saw only tightly controlled emotion. Logan was concerned about a possible threat to Remy's person, but at the same time was amused by the idea of Kimble's crush.

"Dis didn't 'appen," Gambit said lamely.

Logan grinned mischievously and patted his shoulder. "Sure it didn't."

"Gambit's frisky, d'accorde, but dis...?"

"Never know 'bout you. You did take him dancin'," Logan teased, playing the game.

Remy put the pad back inside and picked up the journal. He flipped through it and saw that Kimble had filled quite a bit of it with his beautifully crafted script. It was written in Siskan and would take some time to read. He kept it, jamming it into a coat pocket.

"Why would Kyle want him?" Logan repeated, bouncing ideas and questions off the walls.

"Non. 'Ow did 'e know 'e was even 'ere? Cameron's got someone wit de Sight. Jael must 'ave, too. Has to be."

"I know someone we can see," Logan tossed out. Gambit's thoughts had given him an idea, it might be possible to level the playing ground here. "Take them drawin's. We're goin' for a ride."

"Hey, if we gonna sell dese, I want 'alf de profits, oui?" Remy said, hiding his discomfort. He really didn't want anyone else to see them.

"I know someone with the Sight, Cajun. She's gonna need somethin' real personal to See him. He put a piece of himself in each one of those. She'll See it. Maybe she'll See where he's at."

Remy nodded and closed up Kimble's box before shoving it back under the bed. He looked up as Fallen came to the door. "Seth doesn't know anything," she said. "He heard Kimble arguing with himself, but that was a long time ago. It was before Remy took him out and he hasn't done it since."

"Prob'ly nuthin' then," Logan growled. "Let's get this show on the road."

"Where are you going?" Fallen wanted to know.

"Not me. We. I know someone who can See things sometimes. Maybe she can help us," Wolverine answered, making his way to the exit. "Yer comin' too, darlin'," he barked, not letting her get away. Fallen shrugged and she and Remy followed him out.


	2. Chapter 2

(Two)

Logan stood on the porch with his arms folded across his chest as an armored car pulled up in the driveway and up to the Mansion. He was just on his way out with Gambit and Fallen when the Professor nabbed him for this quick job. The truck had the letters S.H.I.E.L.D. written on the side. This was a prisoner transfer. All Logan had to do was see the guy down to the holding cells. No big deal.

Scott stood on the other side of him, just as annoyed at the interruption to the daily routine. These things were mostly routine, but you never knew when things would go wrong. On more than one occasion, a certain amount of manhandling was involved. He didn't think the guards would give them any trouble, he had seen these two before.

The Professor had a long and confidential relationship with SHIELD. SHIELD, or Strategic Hazard Intervention Espionage Logistic Directorate was a government agency that handled all kinds of Homeland Security issues, including hazardous mutants and their militant underground groups. They were aware of the X-men and their peace keeping efforts. Sometimes they worked together, sometimes not. Either way, SHIELD was more than happy to incarcerate the violent offenders the X-men might collect in their efforts. In appreciation, sometimes SHIELD would cover up for the X-men if there was collateral damage during an X-men skirmish or if the occasional infiltration of other mutant groups was discovered. More than one X-man had been arrested by accident and had to be negotiated over. Favors were owed on both sides and used for mutual advantage. In this case, this prisoner had been considered dangerous, but not a criminal. He was brought here for safe keeping and rehabilitation, not incarceration.

Scott walked up to the truck and spoke with the driver, exchanging polite greetings and the usual paperwork. A second guard in a navy colored uniform came out of the truck and walked around to the back, loosening up his billy club as he moved. He opened the back doors and got ready for trouble.

A small blond person of questionable gender shuffled out into the light. He had long blond hair, impossibly tangled, and wore a pair of ridiculously pink, ripped up prisoner cover-alls. His arms were bare, revealing a soft covering of light blond hair, thick around his elbows. His hands were cuffed to a set of chains around his waist that led to a set of hobble chains around his ankles. A clear, plastic face muzzle was fastened neatly in place around his mouth.

The guard stood by as he descended and didn't assist the prisoner out of the truck. The prisoner shuffled to the edge and jumped down to the pavement, landing neatly in spite of the chains. He tossed his head and looked around him in wonder at the huge house, not quite sure what to make of it. The morning sun was bright and he blinked and was stooped over as if he hadn't been outside in days. The guard jerked on his arm, making sure the prisoner knew he was there and had best be on his good behavior.

Logan sighed, not really wanting to deal with this shit today. All those chains and the muzzle only spelled trouble. He looked up as Jean came out of the house. She was as beautiful as ever, dressed in red to match her hair. Logan smiled at her, always warmed by her presence. "Mornin', Jeannie."

"To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?" she asked, jerking a thumb in the prisoner's direction.

"Friend of Charlie's named Mason said this guy pulled him out of a burnin' buildin'. Saved his life. He took the little fella in and I guess he was stayin' in the basement like some kinda pet or somethin'. Now Charlie's friend croaked and left this gem fer Charlie ta take care of. Said maybe Charlie can straighten him out. 'S gonna be a real trip. Some lady named Karen Richards has been working with 'im. She's supposed to come by tomorrow and help us out."

"Mason leave this guy any money?"

"Yeah. The guy left him ten million dollars. Go figure. Looks like Charlie's gonna earn every penny of it."

"What's his name?"

"Carver or something like that."

Jean looked at the restraints. "More like Hannibal."

Logan grinned. "Can ya get anything off of him?"

Jean concentrated and sent out a mental probe into the prisoner. The prisoner was instantly aware of it and froze, growling, or at least as well as he could with the muzzle on. Jean chuckled.

"What?"

"Carver's having some fun with us. Her mental shields are as formidable as yours."

" 'Her'?"

"Yes. Carver's a girl," she replied, amused.

The driver and Scott met the guard at the rear of the truck. The driver turned to Cyclops and said, "Some of these restraints have to come back with us. Sorry, it's the rules."

The guard began to remove her hobbling ankle chains. Carver stood still as she was fussed over, but kept glancing up at Logan, assessing him with her eyes and sniffing in his direction.

"No problem," Scott replied. He was signing some papers and was unaware of the prisoner taking everything in. He handed the clipboard back to the driver and got moving. He only wanted the men to leave, he didn't think the prisoner was anything he and Logan couldn't handle.

Logan stepped down from the porch and walked up to Carver. He had seen her checking him out, oh, yes. "You gonna give us a hard time, darlin'?"

She just grinned, showing him her sharp looking teeth and said nothing. Her canine teeth were long and pointed and Logan saw that she had good sized claws on her fingers, too. Another feral mutant champing at the bit and spoiling for a fight. This was going to be fun.

"She's a biter," one of the guards said as he took off her muzzle. "Be careful."

"She ain't gonna be no trouble are ya, girl?" He fixed her with his eyes.

Carver hawked and spat right in his face.

Logan grinned, showing her his own teeth in a dominating gesture as he wiped his cheek. "That one ya get fer free. The rest yer gonna pay for...dearly."

Carver growled at him and hissed at him like a cat. Her voice was filled with gravel and hate and was oh, so familiar.

Logan sniffed at her loudly and groaned. "Oh, don't even tell me!"

"What?" Scott asked. He knew Logan well enough to trust his instincts.

"Who's her parents?" Logan gruffly asked the guards.

"How would we know? We just make deliveries."

"Great," Logan complained. "C'mon, kid. Let's go."

Wolverine grabbed Carver's arm roughly and started towing her towards the house. Her only restraint now was the cuffs on her wrists so she stumbled along, startled by his speed. Logan had smelled from her that her defiant actions were a false bravado covering her intense fear. She was terrified of the guards, the house and himself. He also got a whiff of her possible heritage and that concerned him more than her emotional state. He wanted only to get her to a holding cell as soon as possible.

"What?" Scott repeated perplexed, following. He could see Logan was agitated over something.

"Not here," Logan grumbled and kept moving. When they got to the steps, Carver dug her heels in suddenly and twisted, throwing Logan over her shoulder. She handled his unexpected weight easily in spite of her small size. Apparently she had more than just claws and fangs, she was quite strong. She backed up to flee, but he was already on his feet. She spun quickly to run and he gave chase, catching her easily. He slammed her roughly against the back of the truck. She slashed at him with her claws, but he caught her wrists by the cuffs and pinned her back, using his extra weight to his fullest advantage. The SHIELD guys just stood by and waited with smiles of amusement, doing nothing to interfere as they watched the show.

Logan scrutinized their newest guest and knew what she was all about. She was here in a new place and all alone. She had no idea what was in store for her and felt only the need to run. He wasn't the least bit angry at her, knowing what her situation was. This wasn't the first time he'd had to negotiate with a terrified newcomer here. He held her down without releasing her and locked her with his eyes. "Now you just give ol' Logan a listen here, darlin'. Nuthin' bad is gonna happen to ya just so long as ya calm down and relax, okay?"

She said nothing, but trembled in his grip, the smell of her fear intense as it flooded Wolverine's nose. He looked at her more closely and saw a deep, jagged scar across her neck. It was very old. At some point her throat had been slashed, it was probably the only reason she wasn't here spitting insults at him like most other prisoners did. Clearly she'd suffered some kind of abuse at the hand of another.

He reached out and touched her face in an uncharacteristically tender gesture and she responded by calming down a little. He could smell her and read her moods, using all of his senses, and was trying to put her at ease. Logan always had a way with wild, frightened animals and this feral child was no different.

"This is yer home now and we're gonna take care of ya. Karen Richards, that nice lady that works with ya, is comin' tomorrow. You just gotta sit tight until then. Can ya handle it?" he asked gently.

Carver nodded almost imperceptibly and he eased her away from the truck, gripping her tightly. He still didn't trust her not to try and take off again. He nodded at the guards and they finished packing up the truck as he tugged her up the steps. He paused on the porch and let Jean have a look at her.

_Don't be afraid,_ Jean sent out as a gentle reassurance.

_I want Karen._ It was Carver's only thought.

"She'll be here tomorrow. I promise. Now come with us and we'll get you settled in."

Jean took Carver's other arm gently and they went into the house. They walked past Gambit who lounged lazily in the hallway, Kimble's drawings stuffed under his arm. He looked relaxed but he was impatient to get going, they weren't going to find Kimble just standing around here. His eyes met Carver's as she passed and he nodded at her just slightly in greeting, but he didn't think much of her. People came and went around here and this was nothing new. Besides, he had a lot more on his mind.

Fallen was sitting at his feet, her back to the wall with her ankles crossed and her head down. Wolverine could smell her despair, but held a small grudge. If she'd paid attention to Kimble like she should have, he wouldn't have taken off.

"I'll just be another minute," Wolverine grumbled and Remy nodded. They would wait.

Logan brought his young charge down to the holding cells and he led her inside one of the small cubicles. The holding cells here would be much more generous than those at SHIELD. Each one had its own private bathroom with a shower and a large comfortable bed. He had taken her to one that was for those of lower risk, there was a small television and a radio in here as well. He removed her cuffs and held his hand out. "It ain't much, but it'll do fer now. Someone'll come along and bring ya some food in a bit. Are ya hungry?"

She nodded and made a quick gesture with her hands. Wolverine cocked his head at her, not understanding. She sighed impatiently, frustrated by her inability to communicate, and sat down on the bed, her back to the wall and her head down. He grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the security desk and waved it at her. She just shook her head and turned away. He didn't know what else to do for her. Henry was coming down to take a look at her, he'd know what to do. He stepped out of the cell and activated the shield, locking her inside.

As he backed away, he glanced over at Joseph, the last surviving Clansman. He had completely withdrawn into himself since the death of his Master. He lay rumpled and curled up on his bunk, his hands over his face. He'd been miserable like this for days. He hadn't eaten and was terribly thin and drawn, not even fully recovered from Jael's illness. Henry said he would give him another couple of days before moving him to the infirmary to be forced fed if necessary. It made Wolverine sick to see him, the man had been strong, a fierce fighter. Now he lay like a dead thing, his spirit gone. It might have been better if he'd died like the others, Wolverine couldn't help but think.

Logan had better things to do than dwell on Joseph, though, and he turned and left, heading back up the stairs to where Remy and Fallen were waiting.


	3. Chapter 3

(Three)

Remy slid his sunglasses down and popped his gum, giving Logan a dubious look. It hadn't taken him long to show his displeasure at what looked to be a wasted trip by tormenting Wolverine with his reckless chewing. It was a sign of his nervousness and doubt that this little side trip was going to produce anything of value. They had driven out to this junky neighborhood, all of them keeping silent in the Jeep.

Fallen was in the back seat, sullen and sad, but Remy still held her responsible for Kimble's risk taking and didn't offer her much in terms of comfort. Fallen had been given an image inducer to disguise her misshapen appearance and it now projected an image of a pretty blonde. It was a false image and did nothing to hide her misery. She felt horrible Kimble was gone.

Gambit drove to where Logan had directed, his doubt growing with every mile. He stopped where indicated and parked. He got out slowly and looked around him, they were now standing in front of a crumbling old house at the end of a dead end street. Paint lay in chips all about, peeling off the walls like dead skin. Plants growing wild and untamed ran right up the sides of the house as if to take it over and claim it for themselves. Some of the windows had been broken and were boarded up, unrepaired. One good hurricane and this place was coming down, Remy was sure of it. He doubted anyone had lived here for a long time. He shook his head and groaned.

"Dere ain't no one in dis 'ouse, homme."

"Don't be too sure 'bout nuthin' ya see here, Cajun. Anya's not like anyone else I know. She's a recluse and real, real old, but it don't mean she don't know her stuff."

" 'Ow you know 'bout 'er den? Dis 'ow you get your kicks, lookin' out for creepy old women? Or jus' de femmes y' own age," Remy joked. It was true no one really knew just how old Logan was, but Remy, still being quite young, figured he must be positively ancient. No one this ornery could be as young as he looked.

Logan grinned at him impatiently. "A friend of a friend brought me here long time ago. Trust me, she's got the Sight. It's creepy what she knows."

Remy was about to make another crack about Logan being wrong about this stupid junky house in this stupid junky neighborhood and maybe they should all just go back home, when the door creaked open and a long haired old woman peered out at them. She smiled up at Logan. "You're late."

"Sorry, ma'am. We got a little side tracked," he apologized politely and took off his cowboy hat. Wolverine had actually made an effort to look decent for this little adventure, he had shaved and put on some clothes a little less worn.

Remy smiled and shook his head again. It always amazed Remy just how respectful and polite Wolverine was to old people and children. It was a gentle side not often seen. Logan was a complex man, just like himself.

"It's quite all right. I'm sure Molly will settle in fine. She's quite clever, you know." She gave Remy an enigmatic smile as she looked him over, but said nothing more.

Logan cocked his head at Remy who just shrugged in confusion. They had no clue who she was talking about.

The old woman withdrew into the house and they followed. The inside was just as disheveled as the outside. It seemed as though the only thing holding the house together were cobwebs and the tall stacks of moldering books that occupied almost every ounce of space in the place. The house had two floors, but the stairs leading up were so covered in dust, it was clear no one had gone up there for some time. They walked along narrow pathways in between the decaying library and crumbling furniture until they came to a small kitchen. This room was different from the others. It was bright and open and looked out onto a large wildflower garden in the back yard. The windows were open and the air was filled with the scents of the flowers and the buzzing of bees as they played and fed among them. Gambit wondered if this was the only room the old woman actually used. It was as if it belonged to a completely different house.

Remy and Fallen took seats at the small kitchen table. Some tea cups had been set out as if she'd been expecting them. Remy hadn't seen Logan make any calls, but maybe he had slipped out and done it when he wasn't looking. Logan didn't sit, but leaned in the doorway patiently.

Anya sat across from Remy and poured him some tea. "You'll like this," she said.

He sweetened it and drank. It was quite good. He wasn't one to make much time for tea, but had always liked it. "Merci beaucoup, chere."

Anya looked at Fallen and smiled gently. "You can shut that off now, dearie. I can See what you really are."

Fallen returned her smile and clicked the image inducer off, revealing herself. She felt awkward and uncomfortable, like a spy. "Good morrow," she said politely.

"Have no fear. In this house we keep no secrets. You look much better this way. You are very pretty."

"No, I'm not," Fallen whispered, putting her head down.

"Seth thinks it's so and so it must be."

Fallen startled noticeably and looked back at Wolverine who only shrugged. "I told ya she can See. Just make sure you guys listen up. Anya here ain't steered me wrong, not even once."

"You are too kind, Old One. Come, sit with us."

"I'm just fine right here. We ain't here fer me. I brung ya the Cajun."

"You are looking for someone," she said to Remy. It wasn't a question.

"Dat's right. Someone came and took 'im away."

"This one, he has given you something. Your shine is brighter than it was just a few weeks ago."

Gambit swallowed heavily and removed his glasses, setting them down on the table. He'd seen some really strange things but anything supernatural always awed him a bit. "You seen me b'fore?"

"Oh, yes. All your pain, your suffering...it was all meant to be. What was done was meant to happen. There was great harm --- and great good, just not in a way you can see. That is the way of things. Always in motion time is. You have found the place where you belong now and you will have the happiness you crave." She cocked her head at him, her voice going wistful as she suggested, "Two or three at least, I believe. Yes, a boy and a girl. Gifted children, like yourself. Just be patient and keep your eyes open, won't be long now. You have already met the one who will become your wife."

Remy laughed a little, amused that she had Seen his greatest wish, but he didn't have faith enough to believe her prediction. Still he was willing to play along. "Gambit a popular fella, y know. 'E knows lots of girls. Don' 'spose you could be more specific for 'im, neh? Dat way he make sure not to piss 'er off," he said, falling into his comfortable role of the playful scoundrel.

"That would spoil all the fun," she replied with a mischievous smile.

Remy laughed, his eyes twinkling in amusement. He wanted so much to believe, but had his doubts. The thought of him actually settling down with a wife and kids seemed like a distant possibility and an unlikely occurrence, not with his reckless lifestyle and inability to sit still for half a minute. "Si bien. You sure know 'ow to tell a boy what 'e want to 'ear, fille, but I didn't come 'ere for me."

"Don't be so sure," she said with a chuckle at his doubt and nodded at the bundle under Gambit's arm. "You've brought me something."

Gambit slowly unwrapped the pictures Kimble had made and slid them across the table. He was a little uncertain how she would receive them since she was so old and all. He wished Logan had warned him of her age before they left, he might have been more selective about what he brought instead of bringing them all. He hadn't looked through them completely and had no idea what was in here.

"What are those?" Fallen asked, her eyes growing wide when she saw what he had brought. Gambit hadn't known what to expect here and so had told Fallen nothing of these.

"Kimble made dem. Wolvie say Anya 'ere need sumptin' of 'im to 'elp 'er See."

"Where did you get them?"

"Kimble's room."

"I had no idea he felt that way about you," Fallen said awkwardly.

"Mebbe dat's 'cause you don' pay him no 'tention. Dis boy don' 'ide nuthin'."

Fallen turned away, her eyes threatening tears. "I'm sorry."

"Kinda late fer that now, ain't it?" Logan grumbled.

"You don't understand. Seth --"

"Is not de whole worl', chere," Remy interrupted. "You 'ave two children. You can't pass over one for de other wit'out sumptin' givin'. Kimble was breakin' an' you let 'im go like 'e didn' matter."

"He matters to me!" Fallen insisted, a hard edge coming into her voice. "He's always been there for me. I wouldn't have gotten this far without him, I know that."

"Now yer gonna hafta be here fer him," Logan said. "It's gonna take all of us ta find him. Could take a while, too. We've got no idea what Kimble's caught up in now but it looks real bad. Seth is gonna hafta wait."

Anya paid no attention to their bickering, she was looking through the drawings, mumbling quietly to herself. She had picked them up with old and trembling fingers and she sifted through them with a laugh, raising an eyebrow. She smiled up at Remy now, her eyes merry. "This one loves you," she whispered, slipping one of them out for him to see.

Gambit had only flipped through the ones on the top. This one was new. The drawing she had selected was an odd one of the bunch Kimble had made. It was carefully drawn with the clarity of a photograph, not roughly made like the others. It was one of the few that didn't depict a sexual act, but was one of Remy standing quite still with Kimble behind him, his arms around him in a loving embrace. They were both nude, but that wasn't the point. One of Kimble's lovely white arms was draped around Gambit's bare shoulders and across his neck, his hand just touching Remy's face in a simple, yet intimate gesture. His chin rested slightly on Gambit's shoulder, his lips lightly touching Remy's bare skin in a gentle kiss. Kimble's other arm encircled Gambit's waist in a fond, but not provocative way, it was a sign of love, not of lust entirely. Kimble had drawn himself as if he were translucent like a ghost, a secret lover who's presence was significant enough to be felt. It was a powerful picture, though simply drawn, and it had called to Anya with all the love Kimble had put into it.

"Is 'e alive?" Remy said softly, his voice almost too soft to be heard. The drawing Kimble had made took his breath away. The sexual ones had made him laugh because they were so fantastic, they were easy to dismiss. This one hurt because the love there was all too real.

Anya nodded slowly. "Yes. But forever changed."

"Where is he?" Logan growled from the doorway. He had known Anya a long time and had watched her closely, letting her work her magic and observing Gambit's reactions to what she had to say. He knew this woman could really See and wanted to gauge Remy's responses to see if her truths struck deep. Remy's body would tell him what was important.

"His future and yours are entwined," Anya continued to Gambit, ignoring Logan's question and looking deeply into Remy's face. "I See him there always for you. Always his love his there."

Gambit swallowed hard, but said nothing.

Anya looked through more of the pictures. "He is many people."

"Quoi?" Remy asked, still dazed.

She lay down the first one she'd shown him, the one of Kimble and Remy together. "The Lover."

She pulled out another. This one showed a man with a shattered mirror face holding a sword. "The Punisher."

Once more she took from the stack. "And the Quitter."

Remy took the last one and turned it around so he could see. This one was very disturbing. It showed a shadowed image of a small girl chained to the floor of an empty stone room, like an ancient prison. A single barred window let bright moonlight shine across the floor. Remy recognized this place. This was the room Kimble had been incarcerated in on Siska on the night when the Dognan came to take him away, only the skin Kimble was wearing was different. Remy knew this child. This was the female Young Kimble, Sheyman's favorite skin, chained down. She was tiny here as she was then, a girl of about thirteen years of age. She had her head down, her eyes horribly sad and lost. She was covered in filth and grime. Flies buzzed around her as if she were a piece of garbage. A broken wooden sign was tied around her neck. It said, "**Junta bay**."

"De worse' evil in de world," Remy said, reading it. "I know dis from de files. Dis is Young Kimble t'inkin' she ain't wort' de shit she's covered in."

Fallen said nothing, but took the pictures and looked at them. It deepened her melancholy that Remy had instantly known what Kimble had expressed here. Yes, she recognized the image from the files as Remy said, but since she hadn't been so connected to Kimble's mind and feelings, it was just a picture to her. Not so to Remy, obviously. It made her realize that at some point when she wasn't looking, ownership of Kimble had subtly changed hands. Kimble now belonged more to this Cajun thief than to her. Kimble was gone and she'd let him go, almost without a care. She wiped at her face as a tear finally broke free and dribbled down her cheek.

"Fear not, dearie," Anya said to her. "He would have left you eventually. These three are constantly at war, driving him away."

"What're you tryin' ta say?" Logan asked. This wasn't what he had expected to hear from Anya. "What do ya mean by he's three people?"

"He was defective when he was made, something not quite right about him. A mutant of his own kind." Anya paused when she heard Remy laugh a little, the thief hadn't quite heard Kimble's condition said that way before and although it was apt, it was also a little funny. She smiled at him again. "Yes, your friend is different. And unstable. It was made worse since the loss of his...father?" she questioned and continued when Remy nodded. "His world shattered and his mind and spirit with it. Now he is split, the three of them fighting like bickering children. The ones who made him knew this could happen. That is why the ones like him were always destroyed."

Remy balked a little. She hadn't been told anything about Kimble, there was no way she should know about him being a hologram or of Siska. "How you know all dis, chere?"

Anya smiled at Gambit with controlled impatience. "This is why you are here. To learn what I know, what I can See. I know he is not human, that he is not alive like you and me and so do you. So let's stop playing around about who and what he is, shall we?" She next pointed to the picture of Zander. "You know these people. This one did not surprise you, but this one did," she said, turning to the Quitter. "Surely you've seen her before? Not in the memories, boy, in the here and now. Look at her eyes."

Remy looked closely at it and a flash of images came to him. The low slump of Kimble's wings after he'd been busted with Holly. The grief on his face after the vibration of Remy's disappointment had been sent his way and crushed his spirit. That was the pain he saw in the Quitter's eyes. That same look was there in the gym when Kimble had turned away from him on the beam as he asked to be left alone. _I don' wanna be awake no more._ That's what Kimble had said. "Oui, Gambit's seen dis one."

"She is the one who is causing all the trouble. The Lover and the Punisher, they work together to a point to hold this one down, but things have changed, some of the barriers have...melted away. Yes, I see fire, heat. Some kind of burning."

Wolverine was quick to explain, "He was attacked by a group of mutants. We think he might have gotten melted or something. We were afraid he was destroyed."

"But you had reason to believe he was still in some way alive. That is why you are here."

"That's right. You got any idea where he is?" Wolverine repeated, hoping she would get around to the meat of this so they could get going. Kimble's mental state wasn't as important as getting his ass back home where he belonged.

"He is with the ones who took him," Anya replied simply.

Logan smiled at her impetuous answer, but his eyes were hard. Like any good fortune teller, she was only giving him the minimum, wanting him to ask all the questions and guide the direction this was going to go. He really didn't have the patience for this and was aggravated that she was being so cryptic. She usually got right to the point, but not this time. "And where are they?"

"You will go looking, but you will not find him. I think in time he will come back to you," she answered, then paused before going back to where she had started. Again she went back to the maddening topic of Kimble's mental state, obviously she was trying to make a point. "The thing you must understand is that he is three people. He can lose one and the body will still survive. Understand?"

Remy was listening, his attuned senses telling him this was important, this thing she kept insisting on. Her words sent a chill shot right through him. He was hearing her message, and to his horror, they made a sad sort of sense. "Oui. You say de Lover can die. But de others remain in power."

Logan snorted and shook his head. "What? You sayin' Kimble's some kind of split personality? I know the boy ain't right, but that's goin' a bit far ain't it?"


	4. Chapter 4

(Four)

Anya turned and looked at Wolverine. "You of all people should know what it means to be broken. Besides, you asked me what I See and I have answered you. He is not human, not even flesh, yet you question his ability to break. You've been left more than once on the highway when your bike broke down. I seem to recall that's how we met."

Logan laughed at her reference to the past, but did not believe. "He ain't a bike, Anya."

"But he is a machine, yes?"

Wolverine simply glared at her benevolently, not quite ready to admit she had a point. "Yeah, he's a machine."

Gambit lowered his eyes, grumbling inwardly. He disliked this, a conversation where Kimble was discussed like a piece of hardware, a computer gone nuts. Kimble would never be less than real to him, it was impossible. Thing was, he had no room to argue, so he swallowed it, the hurt and the anger.

Anya seemed to sense it and her voice was gentle as she turned back to speak to him. She was careful to speak of Kimble in more human terms as she said, "Your friend, he is a machine. One that was damaged, just as Logan once wrecked his bike. Logan walked away, but the bike didn't. This is the same with Kimble as well. He is more than one person, has been since before this wreck, though I don't think he even knows it. The wreck, or this melting, only made it worse. It will bring those persons out into the open."

Fallen shook her head. "I've known Kimble the longest and I've never seen this. There must be some mistake. If he's acting this way, it's only to get attention. He knows how to manipulate people to get what he wants."

"Got that right," Wolverine grumbled, thinking of Kimble's sometimes childish behavior back on the ship.

Remy shook his head again, feeling the beginnings of headache form behind his eyes. Since the file sharing with Kimble he was increasingly sensitive to the emotions of other people, becoming more than just a low level empath himself. He was trying to learn how to shut out the emotional vibrations of those around him, but he was just a little stressed this morning. He didn't like what he was feeling from the others. "Kimble wouldn't screw around. Not like dis."

Anya's hand touched his own. "I assure all of you he is not. He is three people, not just three sides of one man. Not all of these people are equal in strength and the Lover is the most at risk. The Punisher, he protects and is the body's will to survive. But the Quitter, well, she is the most powerful and the most stubborn. She craves only her own death and will cause much pain and suffering until she finally finds it. She is capable of the greatest evil and the most damage to others. She will do some horrible things, I think, if she is allowed to take the Lover's place and has control of the body."

"Then we should take Kimble down," Wolverine reasoned, unable to hide a certain 'I told you so' tone to his voice. Even if this was all bullshit, he wouldn't allow Fallen's runaway broken machine to hurt anyone else.

Anya shook her head in swift negation. "No. The Lover has work to do and must be allowed to do it, even if he doesn't wish it."

"Quoi?" Remy interrupted. "What work?"

Anya locked him with her eyes, demanding his attention and complete understanding. "His angel. It is important that he be the one to find her. If the Quitter finds her, the angel will become as corrupted as the Quitter herself."

Remy vaguely remembered Kimble saying something about an angel coming to him. It was when Kimble had been stabbed on the Lucky Dragon and almost died. He claimed to have had a vision of his father, Sheyman. Sheyman told him an angel would come and Kimble would have some kind of job to do. Kimble's claims didn't exactly go against what Anya was saying now, but Remy needed more. "Dis angel? She a girl?"

"She is a great power, and the ultimate prize. She is the one the players are all really looking for, not your friend. The Lover must find her and become her Guardian. This is his place, what he has been destined to do. The ones who have him now care not which of the three finds the angel, only that one of them does so they can take it and use it for themselves. Whoever controls the Guardians, controls the power, understand?"

Gambit chuckled and shook his head. "Non, but dat's all right. We go find Kimble, bring 'im 'ome. 'E find 'is angel and we all done, neh? Simple."

She laughed at him. "You two are very much alike. This is why he loves you."

"P'etetre, he jus' know class when 'e see it."

"Yes, perhaps this is so," she agreed, her eyes merry.

"What do ya mean by Guardians?" Wolverine complained, interrupting. He had no patience for joking around. He thought all this was way over the top and was unhappy how Remy was buying into this so completely. Of course he had brought the Cajun here and Anya hadn't steered him wrong yet. As much as he disliked this, Wolverine was being forced to swallow it. He just wished more of this made sense and that Anya would just spell out what was going on. "You sayin' there's more'n one Kimble machine out there?"

"I see many Guardians, many angels. All pieces of a larger puzzle yet to be discovered."

Logan groaned inwardly. This was becoming more complicated than he liked. "Well, ain't that just peachy. So you gonna say where Kim's at?"

She regarded him with her dark green eyes, not the least bit put off by his impatience, she'd known him far too long. "In two weeks' time he'll be down at Dockside on the full moon. First pier, the warehouse with the broken window second from the right," she answered, being very specific for the first time, a response to the direct question. She went on to advise, "You should avoid going there, Old One. Leave him alone. If you choose to seek him out, you must be very careful. You will find him there and when you do, beware of your anger. You have always been full of secrets and he will steal one from you, this I can See. Whatever this one learns, don't let it come between you. Perhaps then, you can have him if you are clever enough."

"What are ya talkin' about?"

"Crazy John," she whispered softly.

Logan jerked up straight as if he'd had ice water splashed in his face and stepped back, clearly understanding the reference. He hadn't expected this to get turned around on him and he snarled, clenching his fists. "You hold yer tongue, woman!"

Remy's head snapped around in surprise. Yeah, Wolverine was gruff and not always so polite, but this was the first time he'd seen such rudeness from Logan to someone much older and supposedly much wiser than himself. The reaction was defensive and the tension in the room skyrocketed, only adding to Gambit's growing headache. Still Remy was quiet, watchful as ever, waiting for this to get played out.

Where most folks might have backed down at the sight of a bristling Wolverine, Anya held her place. "No. You hold yours when he sees what you've hidden. You will bring the Quitter to the fore and blood will cover her hands. Her blood will be your blood. You can try to stop it, but I think you will fail. There is much anger in you and it will make you reckless. You will open the cage that holds the Quitter back and the Lover may perish."

Gambit shook his head in a useless denial. He had no idea who Crazy John was or why Logan should be so afraid. I mean, that's what this was, right? Gambit had never seen the look in Logan's eyes that he saw now. Logan was terrified and furious all at once. "What does Logan 'ave to do wit dis Crazy John? Why is dis secret gonna kill my Kimble? What are you sayin'?"

Logan was no longer interested in continuing this conversation. He turned suddenly and walked out, slamming the front door behind him.

"Beware the Quitter," Anya continued as if she had expected Logan's reaction. She didn't answer Gambit's questions, but went on to say, "The Quitter has the strongest will and could kill your Lover if he becomes so devastated he chooses to allow her to do so. Logan's secret has something to do with the Lover. It is not clear to me, but it's the reason they dislike each other so. The Lover will see it and be crushed by it. The Quitter will take advantage of this to gain control. The Punisher may not stop her if he sees the Lover as an impediment to his goals."

"An 'is goals?"

"He wants his power to grow. He has been charged with the duty of learning his role as protector and takes it very seriously. If your Old One should fail to bring your Lover home, I fear an alliance between the Punisher and the Quitter. It could destroy the Lover and your pilot will become a twisted thing of evil, a weapon used by others to cause much pain and suffering. I must advise against you seeking him out. It would be better if you just let him go for a time."

Remy looked down at his hands, willing her statements to be ones of symbolism and not of actual facts. He just couldn't fight the fact that he sensed on every level she was telling the truth and being very, very literal. "Gambit can't do dat, chere. He all alone. He need me."

"Then leave Logan behind and try on your own. Perhaps the Lover will see your efforts and it will speed him on his way back to you. If you do get him back, you'll have quite the fight. The Quitter won't give up her bid for control easily. Perhaps you could wear her down with enough persistence."

"How we goan' wear dis Quitter down?"

"With lots of patience, love, understanding and ...chocolate?" she asked at the end with another laugh.

Gambit smiled at her, amused and awed by her intuition. "You a smart girl, chere."

"Yes. That I am. Have no fear, young man. I see your will is strong. Your love will not fail the Lover and you'll find what you seek as long as you never give up."

"Gambit ain't givin' up. Not on dis one."

"Do not fail. The angel is the key. This is only the first step in the Game, but it is the most important. There is a coming battle that will span years, a tug of war that has already begun with Jael, but won't end for some time. You have chosen the right side. Don't lose that wonderful sense of adventure you have," she said with a smile. "What a fine Game this will be. Old enemies will become your greatest allies and surprises come around every corner, but I think you will win. Yes, if you play this first move correctly."

_Jus' like every other adventure in our lives, _Remy thought wryly to himself. _Another day, another dollar around here._ "You sure know how to make a boy feel important."

She grinned at him indulgently. "It was your destiny to be here, to find the Lover and become his brother. Don't be fearful of him, he means you no harm. If you succeed in your rescue, he will be your greatest friend and the Punisher your strongest weapon. It's the Quitter you'll have to endure, but the Lover and the Punisher wish only for life. Use them and they will help you."

Anya looked at Fallen. The pilot had been quiet all this time, not really feeling part of this anymore. It was as if they were talking about a stranger. She'd known Kimble for years, yet none of this made any sense.

Anya touched her hands. "You brought this one out of darkness and gave him life. Don't feel bad if it seems as though he is gone from you. It's all part of destiny, these parts we play. You've done what you were meant to do and now your job is done. Let him go, save his brother. He will have need of him when he returns. Please, give me some time with Remy. I'll just need a few minutes."

Fallen nodded and rose. She thanked Anya for the tea and left, her shoulders as low as Kimble's had been. Remy watched her go, his heart breaking for her a little. He looked back at the old woman, uncertain what was coming next.

Anya spread out the pictures again. She lightly brushed the lines of Remy's face that the Lover had drawn. "The Lover may be lost for a time, but perhaps he could be awakened. It will take great love and courage to save him from the Quitter. It might be you who does this, or perhaps someone else. That part is closed to me. But I can say this. Your love for each other...this is your greatest tool. You will be the one most likely to succeed in recovering the Lover if the body is returned to you. It won't be easy. The Quitter will do some horrible, horrible things in order to bring about her own destruction. Don't give up on your Lover because of her. Don't turn him away."

Anya pawed at the drawing again, at the intimacy portrayed there. "The Lover must be the one to find the angel, that is the key to winning your small piece of the Game. You must be brave and use whatever weapons you have to, to bring the Lover out and make him strong enough to hold the Quitter at bay so he can do what must be done. Do not fear his love, his desire...use it to help you. If this should come to pass.." she hesitated, using a finger to emphasize the intimacy in Kimble's drawing, "...it will only make you stronger and your bond will save your friend. It won't stop you from getting that which you most desire...your wife and kids. In fact, I think he just might help you find them."

Remy shivered, not accustomed to listening to old women speak of unconventional sex so boldly. He now knew why she had dismissed Fallen. He decided to respond as plainly as she had and lay his hand over hers as she continued to stroke his face on the paper. " 'E ask me for dis, I say non."

"Maybe the next time, it will be you who asks."

Gambit laughed and stood up, growing more uncomfortable by the minute. He seriously doubted he would ever be so tempted, even by Kimble, but just the same, didn't like the way this was heading. "Merci, for all your 'elp, chere, an' for de tea. C'est bon. It's as good as you say."

She gathered his drawings and gave them back with a smile. "I like you. It feels good to laugh, even if it is at your expense." She wouldn't let him leave until she had given him a small bag full of tea and a big hug. "Relax, young man. This old woman sees only much happiness for you, even through the dark times. Your laugh is your strongest asset. Too bad the Old One doesn't share this."

"Oui. I been workin' on dat, y' know? 'E don't make it easy."

She gave him another squeeze. "Keep trying. It's for his own good."

Gambit laughed, making her smile again. "Dat's a promise."

He gave her a kiss, thanked her again for the tea and left. He walked down her broken front porch feeling a little giddy. Anya's words had made him feel better about the future, even if he didn't buy into everything she'd said. The thought of Kimble's return and the chance at a real life with a wife and all the trimmings cheered him. He decided not to dwell on her prediction of Kimble's possible destruction. He was confident that they could bring Kimble back from the warehouse. They had the upper hand with the power of foreknowledge. It wasn't the first time a premonition was used to help the X-men get out of scrap and that's all this was, just another scrap. As long as he could think of it that way, he could keep his heart from breaking. Kimble would not be lost to him, he promised.

He walked back to the Jeep. Both Fallen and Logan sat quiet, hunched down in their seats. Logan's anger smouldered, his eyes closed as he smoked a cigarette, trying to calm down. Whatever Anya had known about spooked him badly and he was retreating now, shutting down any plans Gambit may have had for asking him what she'd been talking about. Just the look on his face was enough to burst Remy's bubble a little. Maybe he shouldn't be so optimistic. He would be sure to start bugging Logan about his little secret at his earliest convenience, that was for sure.

Remy got into the driver's seat and drove them back to the house, thoughtful himself. They would report in and see if the others had turned up anything. Gambit's mind wandered wistfully as he drove. He hoped with all of his heart that Kimble was okay. It was a good thing he was, by nature, optimistic. He couldn't imagine what his friend had gone through last night.


	5. Chapter 5

(Five)

The night before, Kimble hadn't been prepared for the level of pain that assaulted him when the blast of plasma energy hit him. He was swallowed up in a boiling ball of lava and the heat of it forced all of his internal systems to shut down. It was mainly Fallen's cleverness that had saved him. When she constructed the hologram components, the hardware she'd selected was of the highest quality. It was hot, but didn't melt down. He was still alive somehow. In his own defense, Kimble was forced to retreat deeper into his own systems than he'd ever been before. He saw it as if it were a dream.

He was falling down through a pitch black sky, screaming as his body was on fire. He left a trail of black smoke and ash behind him as if he was being transformed into something else. Layers of him were being burned away. He landed on the floor of his own internal black room painfully with a loud thud and lay whimpering and broken. This was no soft black silky bed waiting for his arrival. He hit the deck hard and was now smouldering, smoke wafting off of his shoulders like steam. Well, it could be worse, he couldn't help but think, at least he was no longer on fire.

Kimble groaned and looked around him, blinking through the haze of his charred and smoking skin. It was horribly hot and close in here, like a sauna. He was in the circle of light, but he wasn't alone.

"Welcome to the party, kid."

Kimble turned his head and saw Zander crouched beside him some distance away. He was down on one knee and chained to the floor, growling in protest of his confinement.

"Where am I ?" Kimble asked, wincing from the pain as he sat up. Flakes of ash drifted from him, revealing pink but normal skin under his burns. In this unreal world, he was healing.

"Yer in our system deep. This is where all the really good stuff happens," Zander replied, a bitter edge to his voice.

Kimble rubbed his eyes and tried to get a better sense of where he was. He cocked his head in surprise when he saw two more sets of chains on the outside edge of the circle where Zander was imprisoned. The first set was unoccupied and a message was etched into the floor -- "Seth was here," next to a plaque that read "The One Who'd Broken Free."

The next set held a small girl. Zander's ghost, now all too real, looked back at him with the familiar blue eyes of Sheyman's favorite skin. She appeared now as Kimble had drawn her, but he had no memory of doing so. He'd crafted that image in a fog, a kind of trance where his hands had moved to create and then filed the finished picture away as if it had never been. She had guided his hands that day, taking him over and making her presence known. Zander had been pissed off about it and buried the picture away, not wanting to trouble Kimble with it.

"Who're you?" Kimble asked, not sure he wanted to know.

"Don' looks at me, I'm ugly. Not worth shit. All I feels is pain," she whispered softly, her despair all too real. "Gots ta make it stop."

"See what I've had ta put up with? She don' ever shut up," Zander complained.

"What's goin' on?" Kimble asked bewildered. He knew this was no dream.

"We's dyin'," the girl said, an odd smile brightening her face a little.

"No we ain't. I been there b'fore. This ain't it."

"Yes it is," she insisted defiantly. "We're gonna go see father and all will be like it useta be when he loved us. We ain't gonna be 'lone no more!"

"Just humor her," Zander growled. "She's so stupid, she won't know no better."

"I ain't stupid!" she hollered, rising to her feet. As she moved, her stink rose with her. She broke off a piece of her filth encrusted sign and flung it at Zander, hitting him in the face. One of his mirror pieces chipped and fell away with a clink. Blood poured from the wound, showing he was so much more than just a mere image.

"Fuckin' cunt!" he snarled and drew his sword. They were too far apart for him to reach her, but he swung it at her just the same.

Kimble reeled, covering his face as he tried to take all of this insanity in. This was a nightmare. "Stop this! What's goin' on!"

"This's the fun house, kid. Yer seein' yerself like ya never done b'fore," Zander answered, lowering his sword and calming down a little.

"This ain't me! I ain't all of you! I'm Kimble!"

"Really? Look at yerself good, boy."

Kimble looked down at his body. He was no longer burned and smoking. The ash had fallen away and his skin was white and clean as if it had never been damaged, but now he was sporting a fashionable set of chains just like the others. Somehow he'd been pushed back to the outer edge of the circle as well. It seemed more like a square now, each one of the set of chains was an equal distance apart. Kimble looked down to where the chains were bolted to the floor and saw a plaque there labeled, the Lover. They all had one. The Lover, the Punisher, the Quitter, and the One Who Had Broken Free.

"No..!" Kimble sobbed miserably. This whole thing was too surreal for him to take. If he'd thought he'd gone off the deep end before, he'd been sadly mistaken. He was sitting here now in the circle of his mind, shattered.

"Don' feel so bad, kid," Zander said with little comfort. "We've been here longer than you. We've been here watchin' you run around with all the control, fuckin' up an' embarrassin' the crap out of us...well, me anaways. That bitch over there don' much care. All she does is complain and talk about how great it's all gonna be when we're dead. Least with you down here now, I'll have some decent company."

"This ain't real!" Kimble continued to sob, covering his face.

"Shoulda spiked us when ya had the chance," the girl whispered as she sat back down again on the floor. "Woulda saved us all some pain."

"Shut up, 'Shay. I'm so sick of yer mouth," Zander snapped. "Cain't ya see the boy's jus' a little upset? Leave him alone!"

Kimble looked at her, his cheeks wet. " 'Shay? That's yer name?"

"Lakotashay."

Kimble laughed bitterly and shook his head. How apt. Lakotashay, the Siskan equivalent of dog shit. Whatever you could visualize in your mind as the worst kind of filth or scum, that's what Lakotashay was. Of course this girl would be so familiar. She was the sum of all of his self loathing and despair as Zander was the sum of all of his rage and desire to lash out at those who had hurt him so badly. What a motley band of souls, these. Straight jacket and padded cell here we come.

Kimble shivered suddenly as the heat all around him dropped sharply. "What now?" he wailed and then screamed as he was sucked into a blinding white whirlwind.

In the circle of light, Zander shook his head with gruff amusement as he watched Kimble dissolve and fade away. He knew it meant Kimble was waking up on the outside. "Good luck, kid. Yer gonna needs it," he said softly, losing some of his gruffness. It was mostly just a cover anyway. He was more protector and punisher than bully. The attitude went with the job.

Lakotashay sobbed and lay her head down to the floor. "It's not fair! We wuz suppozta die! No! No!"

Zander picked up the piece of the sign she'd flung at him and tossed it back to her. "For the billionth time, shut yer yap! Time ta watch again."

------------------------------------

Only moments before, Kyle Franks had flown with his steaming burden, hardly able to hold onto it because of the heat of it. What a horrible mission this had been. He had gone with his team to the bar looking for a man with a Mark, a large tattoo. Kyle had a good crew with him --- Gail, a girl more lizard than man and a good fighter. Michael, a gun toting master of weapons who had the abilty to phase and was naturally invulnerable. Leon, a bio-plasma producer and decent back-up for Michael. Kyle himself was a powerful telekinetic and leader of the gang.

Kyle had decided to save some time by letting Sabertooth and his gang do all the work and just do bit of thieving after. At first, the plan had worked out fine. They had arrived just in time to catch Creed walking out with Kimble tossed over his shoulder. What hadn't gone right was the big fight that followed. Kimble had managed to run off only to get slammed by one of Leon's plasma bursts. The pilot hadn't stood a chance. He took the blast full on and melted. What a mess. The only sign that this hadn't gone totally to shit was the fact that Kimble had in fact melted instead of exploding into chunks as was often the case with stray plasma balls. He obviously wasn't human or even flesh. Kyle then figured that Kimble must be some kind of alien. All the better for him. If he melted, he could be gathered. If he could be gathered, he could perhaps be cooled. If he could be cooled, maybe he could be saved and Kyle's ass wouldn't be in a sling.

They had left the bar a only few minutes ago and Kyle carried both Kimble's remains and his crew aloft as they'd fled. He had no time, he had to cool Kimble off as soon as possible if he was going to salvage this nightmare. Kyle was in command of this team and was in charge of all the decisions. Whatever they did to fix this had to come from his own head. His problem was a lack of options. Good thing he was very experienced and well trained. He'd been in Cameron Bishop's employ for many years and was his most trusted Seeker.

He flew over a residential area and smiled when he saw a large in-ground swimming pool. It was a good sized pool and a cool night, perfect for what he needed. The pool had a vinyl cover on it, but he slashed through it with a mental command. He dropped sharply and recklessly plunged into the frigid water, not caring about the shock to his own system. There was a loud splash and hiss of steam as the container of Kimble's orange glowing fluids hit the water. It wasn't even close to being silent.

"Cover me!" Kyle gasped from the cold water as the back door of the house opened and the owner came running out with a gun. Kyle had used his power to lower the others into the yard and they now drew their own weapons in response to his order. The owner balked, just as surprised by the small band of mutants as he was from the noise they'd made. Just the sight of Gail and her jagged crocodile face was enough to make him wet himself.

"Get out of here!" he shouted, his trembling voice betraying him. He was an old man dressed only in a worn out housecoat. All of his fight had evaporated.

"We'll be out of your way in a minute," Michael said sternly, making sure the man saw his pistols. He favored Desert Eagles and they were quite large and menacing looking. "We just need your pool for a moment."

The owner swallowed and debated his options. He was outgunned and had no will to pursue this. What a stupid stinking world this had become where a man couldn't even protect his own yard from all of these mutant freaks running around. He would be sure to write a letter to his Congressman about this!

Kyle looked down at the container he'd made and felt some relief when he saw the orange mass inside quickly turn grey as it cooled. There were bands of orange plasma still swirled around in the gel, but nowhere near as much as before. The temperature of the water in the pool had risen sharply and he knew that although this was better, it wasn't going to be good enough to finish the job. He smiled with renewed hope as the fluids swirled and moved about inside the ball he'd made. Kimble was trying to reform.

"We're outta here, troops!" he shouted and lifted them again.

"It's been real!" Michael said arrogantly, giving the owner of the house a mock salute and a laugh as they drifted up into the sky.

The owner could only watch in dumb amazement as they levitated up and out of his yard as though he had just gone sleepwalking, as though they had never been there at all.

Kyle flew them off into the night and back towards New York City, trying to make the best time he could. Kyle was a solitary man and owned several decrepit buildings all over the city, calling them aeries as a private joke to himself. The names were apt. He would let the lower levels fall into decay while keeping the top floors in good shape. The buildings appeared abandoned and were left alone. The top floors could only be reached by flight. All the stairs had been destroyed. This way he had his privacy and could live quietly. The top floor of this building was small but would do.

They landed in a neat formation on the roof and descended inside quickly. Kyle made for the bathroom. It was a decent size with a large tub, the only real asset to this aerie. He rushed inside and carefully set the large container of liquid into the bathtub before starting the cold water running. The ice cold water began to sizzle and steam as the pool water had done when it hit Kyle's containment shield. The contents had started to warm again on the way here, the overheated inner core fueling the rise. Kyle slowly expanded the ball, allowing more surface area to be cooled. As he did, he was relieved to see the gel swirl around once more, still trying to reform. He released Kimble's gel and watched in fascination as it molded itself back into human shape.

A grey, winged man took form from the gel, his mouth open in a frozen scream. He began to move in a slow motion as he cooled even further. He twitched violently twice and finally the scream was released. It was a horrible twisted, wrenching sound filled with pain and Kyle couldn't help but wince at the sound of it.

"What's going on?" Gail asked sharply, poking her head in through the door. Kimble's scream had chilled her down to the bone and she was worried for Kyle's safety.

"He's coming back, I think. Just give me a minute!" Kyle replied impatiently.

Kimble's white pilot skin flickered and reactivated, making Kyle jump back in surprise. Kimble was back and in agony. He thrashed convulsively, sloshing water everywhere. Kyle got over his fear quickly and held him down, not ready to let him up just yet. He was cooler, but still warm to the touch. Kimble didn't know Kyle was there, but convulsed and thrashed as if fighting some unseen enemy. He stopped moving suddenly and vomited explosively, splattering hot orange and grey liquid all over Kyle.

Kyle jerked away reflexively. He expected to be burned, but it wasn't as hot as that. He paused in wonder as he saw what Kimble had sicked up shimmer and disappear. It had no smell, and his clothes were clean when it was gone. Oh, yeah. This guy wasn't even close to being human.

Kimble groaned and blacked out. Kyle grabbed his head before it slipped under the water. He was cooling off fast now. Kyle let him sit in the chilled water for a long time, freshening it time and time again when it got too warm.

He stripped down out of his own soaked clothing while he waited for Kimble to cool and dried off. He changed quickly, never taking his eyes off of his new charge. This had been so scary. They had come close to losing Kimble and even now, the pilot wasn't out of the woods yet.

Kimble had stopped fighting and lay motionless except for the heaving of his chest. It was as if he couldn't get enough air. His eyes were half open and sightless, glassy and unfocused. Before long, he was snoring raggedly and Kyle was fearful he would expire at any moment, but he kept taking breath after mechanical breath. As the time passed and he cooled further, his breathing leveled out and he seemed to fall asleep for real, filling Kyle with relief. He had pulled this off, thank God. When it looked as though Kimble was as cool as he was going to get, Kyle moved him to the bed. He was surprised to find Kimble was much lighter than he looked, he didn't need to use his power to move him.

Kyle lay the naked pilot down and looked down at Kimble's sleeping face. Kimble's skin was a sparkling white and the Mark blazed brightly on his chest as if the large tattoo had only recently been made. Kimble's shredded clothing had long since burned away when he'd been melted and Kyle wondered at how magnificent he appeared. It was like looking at a mythical creature. At least he seemed all right now, but who could tell what kind of permanent damage had been done.

Gail stood beside Kyle and bumped him playfully with her shoulder. The two of them were close friends and had worked together for a long time. Her gruesome appearance didn't bother him at all. Kyle regarded all mutants as potential allies and saw their gifts as assets, not as things to be discriminated by. He loved the power and animal grace of her. She was a savage fighter and didn't put up with guff from anybody. "He's so beautiful. Will he be all right?" Gail breathed softly, admiring the pilot.

"I don't know. I hope so."

"He looks strange. I don't know...different."

"Of course he's different," Leon quipped sarcastically from behind her. "He's an alien."

"He's not an alien," Kyle said impatiently. "He's the ShaRain."

"Oh, my mistake," Leon said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Kyle Franks worked for Cameron Bishop, the leader of the Freedom Kings. The Kings was a group of mutants that fought for mutant rights as the X-men did, but were far less warm and fuzzy about it. They robbed banks to finance themselves and blew up the offices of anti-mutant human organizations, trying to show that mutants would not go down quietly. Cameron Franks had a good number of mutants on his crew. One of them was a Seer named Joshua. He had whispered to Cameron, his Master, that he'd had visions of a winged man with a large Mark, a tattoo of an emerald winged woman lying along the blade of a sword. This man would be powerful and strong, the perfect weapon for their cause. This man was the ShaRain, a word he could not explain, only that it was wrapped around Kimble in his vision. Cameron had responded eagerly by sending out Kyle to collect him. He was aware that Jael was also looking. A race that Cameron had now won, it appeared.

Kimble's eyes slid partway open. "Fallen..." he whispered and reached out for her.

"What did he say?" Gail asked, leaning in closer to the pilot to hear.

"I've fallen and I can't get up!" Leon giggled insanely.

"Quiet!" Kyle snapped. He sat down on the bed and took Kimble's outstretched hand. "You okay, son?"

"I wants ta go home, Fallen...I feels sick."

Kyle cocked his head in amusement at Kimble's strange accent and mangled English. It was like a child had spoken. "You're too sick to go anywhere. Try to sleep."

Kimble curled up slowly into a ball, groaning. "My belly hurts..."

"Get the bucket from the bathroom," Kyle said to Gail. "He's probably going to be sick again."

Kimble didn't wait for her. He heaved and coughed up another volley of grey gel. It was streaked with large bands of orange plasma. Kimble whined and started to cry. "It hurts so bad..."

Leon snorted. "I thought he was supposed to be a big warrior or something. Look at him. He's cryin' like a little baby."

"Warriors come in all shapes and sizes," Kyle said angrily. He had no love for Leon and it showed.

"Gross..." Gail said when she returned. Kimble had spit up all over the bed. It gradually shimmered as it cooled and then vaporized. "Well, at least we won't have to clean it up."

"Convenient, huh?" Michael added with his usual comic laugh. He had helped himself to Kyle's fridge and was slurping loudly on a can of soda.

"Fallen!" Kimble sobbed. He was in agony and wanted only her. "Help me! Fallen!"

"Is that a name?" Gail asked.

"Sounds like it." Kyle rubbed Kimble's hand. "Just take it easy, kid."

"I wants ta go home... I'm sick... Fix me, Fallen... Makes the pain go away..."

"You're not going anywhere just yet. What's your name, son?"

Kimble curled up even more tightly. "I wants ta go home..."

"Tell me who you are and we'll help you."

"I hafta go home!" Kimble insisted.

"Where's your home?"

"You know...the X-men's place ... Just like we planned... Fallen... I promise I won't be bad no more, just fix me, please..." he babbled deliriously.

"Oh, we are so fucked!" Gail said, covering her eyes. "Nobody said anything about the X-men being involved in this!"

"They aren't anything we can't handle," Kyle said confidently. He should know, he used to live with them once so very long ago. He didn't stay long, he just couldn't buy into peace between humans and mutants without some kind of show of force by the mutants. Humans never seemed to take mutants seriously, except when they were beating them to death of course. He had lost many friends in this war. Of course he wasn't familiar with the current X-men roster, he had left many years ago, but Charles' foolish ideals sometimes left him open for weakness. The more powerful and militant mutants usually got snapped up by Cameron or Jael. He didn't think the X-men would be anything Cameron couldn't handle.

Gail didn't quite believe, but she respected him enough to keep quiet about it. The others stirred restlessly, raising his ire. Kyle sensed the others hovering and felt they were in the way. He pulled away from Kimble and moved his crew aside. "I'm going to drop you guys off outside. I want you to go and report to Cameron. Tell him I'll bring the ShaRain over to the club when he's better."

"I'm staying here with him," Leon said. "I've got orders."

"So do I. Report back to Cam. Now."

"No. He's not leaving my sight."

The two men locked eyes. Kyle was older and wiser, but Leon was much more powerful and part of Cameron's Inner Circle. Kyle had no choice. "All right. But keep quiet."

Kyle grabbed Michael and Gail and dropped them off outside. They ran off, grateful to be free and disappeared into the darkness of the night. He returned to the aerie quickly, not wanting to leave Kimble alone with Leon for too long. Leon was sneaky and crazy, he couldn't be trusted.

Kimble was moaning and thrashing on the bed when he arrived back upstairs. Leon stood over him, just a little too closely, a strange twisted grin on his face. "Leave him alone," Kyle barked.

"I wasn't going to do anything," Leon said, backing off with his hands up. He sat down at the table. He looked around him impatiently. "Don't you have any TVs or anything?"

"No," Kyle answered, sitting next to Kimble on the bed. "Try reading a book." Kyle was an intelligent man. He had many shelves with books on all subjects.

Leon snorted and turned away. He was small and weasley, not a very nice person. He was largely illiterate with no desire to expand his horizons. His power enabled him to protect himself and dominate others, he was a bully and more than satisfied with it. He'd been brutally sexually and mentally abused by an uncle when he was a child and it showed in the nasty way he carried himself and argued all of the time. He was filthy and not pleasant to be around. Kyle tried his best to see past all that to the boy underneath, Leon was only a teenager, but his childish and cruel manner made it difficult. For reasons yet to be explained, Cameron had insisted Leon go out on them with this trip and apparently wanted Leon close to this pilot.

Kyle ignored his rude teammate and touched Kimble's fevered face. The creature was still quite warm. If he overheated again, Kyle would be forced to bring him back to the bathroom and cool him off some more.

Kimble felt him there. He reached out and snatched Kyle's hand, grasping for any kind of comfort. "Help me..."

"What can I do?"

"Thirsty...So thirsty..."

Kyle got up carefully and got a glass of water. He returned and Kimble grabbed at it greedily. He drank the water down in big gulps, then retched and coughed it all up again. Kyle was at his wit's end. He got a towel and cleaned the mess, not sure of what he was doing. He was afraid that Kimble could still die and all of this would be for nothing. Kimble was clawing at his throat, gasping and moaning.

Kyle went to the kitchen, thinking of what to do. He opened up the freezer and took out a large block of ice. He found a pick and stabbed at it viciously, venting some of his pent up frustration over this whole mess. He gathered the chips and dumped them into a bowl before sitting back down next to Kimble. He slid some chips into Kimble's mouth and the pilot took them gratefully, chomping on them and drooling with relief. "Wh-what happened ta me?" he asked in a weak scratchy voice. He looked a little more aware.

"You got hit by a plasma burst. You're lucky to be alive."

"Plasma..." Kimble shuddered. He vaguely remembered Fallen saying something about plasma energy being harmful to the hologram. He reached for more chips and Kyle gave him some, careful not to give him too many.

"It's all right. I think you're going to be fine."

Kimble squinted up at him. "Who're you?"

"My name is Kyle Franks. My friends and I found you outside the bar. You'd been attacked by a gang of mutants. We drove them off, but you got hit by a stray plasma burst."

Some of what Kyle said sounded right to Kimble's blurred memory, but not all of it. He had a vague recollection of hurting this man, but wasn't sure why. The marks he had made grabbing for Kyle's eyes had faded, he didn't see them and Kyle didn't remind him about it.

"Where am I?"

"This is a safe place. This is one of my homes. No one will harm you here. Now, tell me your name."

"Name's Kimble."

"Kimble?"

"Yeah, Kimble. Just like that. Kimble." He closed his eyes and took a ragged breath. "It's so hot in here..."

Kyle took Kimble's hand again. "Try to sleep."

"Stay with me."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Kimble spent most of the night in a kind of stupor. He would doze off only to wake and vomit again. The streaks of orange grew less and less with each purging and Kyle could see he was getting better. Even though he was a stranger, Kimble wanted Kyle close to him and finally fell asleep, his head in Kyle's lap.

Kyle looked down into Kimble's sleeping face and brushed his hair back gently. Kyle found himself oddly attracted to his sparkling beauty and other worldliness. He was an alabaster winged Adonis, his physique perfect and chiseled. His skin seemed to glow unnaturally and his whiteness suggested purity. Kyle ran his hands gently over his leathery wings, unable to stop his curiosity. He felt Kimble shudder with pleasure from his touch. Kimble mumbled something in a strange musical language and half opened his eyes.

Kyle looked quickly at Leon, but he'd fallen asleep, his head on the table. Kyle knew Leon was homophobic as a result of the abuse he'd received and didn't want him to misunderstand his careful explorations of their guest. He was merely curious, nothing more.

Kimble slurred more pleasant gibberish and rolled onto his back to look up into Kyle's face. He was clearly stoned, the plasma had made him high even as it made him sick. His pupils were fully dilated, making him look even more strange. He whispered something, laughed, and reached up to touch his fevered fingers to Kyle's lips.

Kyle took his hand, pulling it away gently. "Sleep."

"Cain't. Too hot. I felt ya touchin' me."

"I've never seen anyone like you. Don't be afraid."

"I ain't scared. You kin keep touchin' me, I don' mind. I likes it."

He rose up slightly to kiss Kyle, but the older man pushed him down firmly in a gentle refusal. He was a little confused by Kimble's apparent desire. He knew Kimble had been at the bar with a woman. He'd actually seen Kimble there a few times without knowing who he was. Each time, Kimble had gone with a prostitute. Maybe Kimble was just really high. Still, he made his position on the matter clear. "I'm not gay and I don't want you that way. I'm sorry if I confused you."

"I ain't no man. I ain't no girl. I'm Kimble."

"What does that mean? Kimble?"

"S' my name."

"Well...Kimble. I was curious about you, but that's all," Kyle repeated, firm about this.

Kimble withered a little. "S'all right. Don' be mad at me."

"I'm not angry. I was just wondering what you are."

Kimble laughed, relieved, and said, "I'm Kimble. I'm a pilot," as if that explained everything.

"A pilot, huh? I've never seen a pilot quite like you."

"That's cuz there ain't no pilots like me. I'm the only one."

"The only one? Don't you have parents?"

A dark sadness crossed Kimble's face. "Gots no parents. I ain't even real."

"You seem real enough to me."

"Well, I ain't." Kimble rolled onto his side, turning away. The plasma was buzzing in his head like he'd drunk too much whiskey. It enhanced his senses but exaggerated his emotions. He'd been aroused when Kyle was touching him, now he felt a sadness so profound he thought it would swallow him up whole.

Kyle touched his shoulder, concerned at Kimble's rapid change in mood. "I meant no offense."

"I wants ta go home."

"You're sick."

Kimble tried to rise, wanting only to get out of here. He had to find Fallen. He swayed drunkenly as the room began to spin wildly. His stomach heaved and he gagged. Kyle grabbed at him, not letting him fall. Kimble leaned back against him, letting the other man catch him. Kimble's head flopped back and he found himself looking up into Kyle's eyes again. Kimble started to shake in fear. He'd never been this drunk, this high before and it frightened him. "Helps me..."

"I'm trying, but you're not co-operating."

"What's happenin' ta me?" He had no memory of the night before or of Kyle's explaining all this already.

"You got hit with a plasma burst. You absorbed it and it's made you sick. You need to rest."

Kimble closed his eyes, feeling horrible. "I'm scared."

"It's all right. I've got you now." Kyle lay Kimble back down on the bed and covered him up with the blankets. "Sleep."

Kimble grasped his wrist. "Stay with me."

Kyle looked down at him, confused. Joshua said this was the ShaRain. The ShaRain was supposed to be some kind of powerful fighting spirit. He had gone on to say that not only would the ShaRain be an asset and a powerful ally, he was also destined to find some kind of special object of power called the LaRoo, another word Joshua was at a loss to explain. It all sounded kind of hokey to Kyle, but Cameron was all over it. Kyle decided he would just treat Kimble like any other recruit and bring him into the fold like the rest. He turned on his best charming smile. "Of course I'll stay with you."

Kimble released him and curled up next to him. Kyle petted his head gently until he heard Kimble's breathing change and he knew he was asleep, hopefully for a while this time. He stood up and saw Leon was out cold as well. This was as good a time as any to sneak off and call Cameron. He was sorry now he'd never installed a phone up here, but he hated telephones and wanted the isolation. There was a payphone just down the street. He stepped out onto the fire escape and dropped down to the street.


	6. Chapter 6

(Six)

At about the same time the SHIELD truck was pulling up to the front of the X-men Mansion to drop off the new arrival, Kyle jogged quickly to the convenience store on the corner. He squinted in the new morning sun, exhausted from tending to Kimble all night. He went to the side of the store and used the pay phone to dial his boss. Cameron was an early riser and picked up after the first ring. "Hello?" he greeted in his old man's thick growl. Cameron was well into his fifties.

"Hey, Cam. It's me, Kyle."

"What's happening? Is he all right? Your people said he was sick."

"Yes. He's here. He's okay. At least I think he is. He got hit by one of Leon's plasma bursts."

"I know. I told Leon to hit him."

"What? Why? Jeezus, Cam! He almost melted him! Don't ask me how he walked away from that!"

"Relax, Joshua said that the ShaRain feeds off of energy. I made sure he found the plasma to his liking. Now it will be all he wants."

"Are you sure? It made him sick. He was barfing up all over the place!"

"Of course the amounts may have to be adjusted. Joshua told me all about it."

"When were you going to tell me? That's so unfair!"

"Is he okay now?"

"Yeah, I think so. I hope so."

"Let him sleep it off and bring him by the club later. We have to talk anyway."

"What about Leon?"

"What about him?"

"I don't think it's a good idea keeping him around Kimble."

"Who?"

"Kimble. That's his name. Kimble. I think Leon's going to be a problem."

"Why?"

"He's violently homophobic."

"That's an issue? Joshua said nothing about our friend being gay."

"Yeah, well. Maybe it was the plasma making him crazy, I don't know, but he made a pass at me. Fortunately, Leon didn't see it, but..."

"He made a pass at you? Well, that's a surprise," Cameron interrupted, sounding anything but. "That's not necessarily a bad thing. I wanted to talk to you about being his handler anyway--"

"Forget it, Cam. No way. I'll bring him in, but that's it." To make his point, Kyle hung up.

He paced for a few minutes, quietly fuming, but was disrupted by a loud message from his stomach. He took advantage of opportunity and walked into the store, his mind still racing. He was pissed off at Cameron's audacity and manipulations. He disliked being used. He roamed the shelves, calming down and casually wondering what a creature like Kimble would consider breakfast or if he even ate at all. He grabbed a few items and left quickly, not wanting to leave Kimble alone for too long. He hoped he hadn't been gone too long already.

-------------------------------------------

Back at the tall building that housed the Ricochet Club, Cameron Bishop paced in his lofty office. He was an older man, in his early fifties and balding. He was round in the middle and finely dressed with the merry eyes of a fatherly Santa Claus. He was a mutant, but not a very powerful one. He was more of a master manipulator and con artist. He had maneuvered his way to this high position by cleverness alone. He had a way of knowing the right thing to say or do to get what he wanted. He built this Club and training ground as a power base to increase his own wealth and power. He used the Club to lure his people in and filled their heads full of popular anti-human rhetoric, building his army. He blackmailed and used people, siccing his brainwashed thugs on those who either didn't join him or stood in his way. He had more than a few skeletons in his closet, but wasn't as murderous as the Brotherhood or Jael. He didn't want to take over the world, he just wanted his share of the pie...for now.

He grabbed his suit coat from a chair and walked out. He went to the elevator and stepped inside. The elevator looked normal but had a special keypad that was activated by a palm scan. He scanned his hand and clicked one of the buttons. The car moved swiftly and smoothly and he began to pace restlessly. He was very excited that Kyle had come through for him.

Kyle was one of his major assets and best finds. How he had laughed when he saw what Xavier had let go. Kyle was one of the most powerful telekinetics on the planet, and one of the easiest people Cameron had ever tried to manipulate. Kyle had wanted to work for someone who wouldn't tie his hands as Xavier did. Kyle loved working with teenagers and was a good leader on his squad. Cameron knew he was going to get Kimble placed with Kyle just as he wanted, in spite of Kyle's reservations. He knew Kyle was just nervous about handling such a rare find. The key to keeping Kyle steady was to dole out the facts as needed. If Kyle knew the entirety of Cameron's ambitious plan, he was sure to balk and bail out as soon as possible.

The elevator came to a stop and Cameron got out. This was an exclusive floor that very few had access to. Here was where Cameron kept his most valuable asset, his special advisor, Joshua. This floor was dark and gloomy, painted in tones of dark purple and black. There were only very dim electric lights, but some candles burned merrily on some small tables here and there. Joshua's apartment was sparsely furnished, most of the objects around were made of fine wood in the oriental style and low to the floor. The walls were bare except for sconces that held scented candles, all lit. One wall did have an extraordinary painted dragon on it, all gold and twisted in the oriental style. The atmosphere was one of sorcery and mysticism which was the intent. Joshua seemed to fancy himself as some kind of wizard and dressed the part as much as possible.

Cameron sat on a large cushion at a large low table in the living area and rang a small metal bell that had been placed there. A few moments later, Joshua glided from the gloom of the back room to greet him. Joshua was dressed in long dark blue robes, hooded of course. He smiled at his Master and sat, pulling the hood from his face. Joshua was a strange sight. He was tall and very thin, but more than that he was an albino, the whitest and brightest thing in the room. "Master," he purred and blinked his soft, pink eyes at him.

"Joshua, I have such good news."

"The Guardian had been found."

"No keeping secrets from you, my friend."

Joshua just laughed softly. "Is he intact?"

"Kyle says he is, but he might be damaged. Are you sure it was such a good idea for Leon to hit him like that? Kyle said the plasma made him sick."

"He will be all right. Now he will have a taste for it. He won't want anything else and will be easy to control."

"He will do as I want?"

"Some persuasion may be required, but I think so, yes. He has been a servant before and will be one again most easily. He is as a child and should be treated like one."

"You said he was a warrior."

"I said he would become one."

"Well, he'll have to be trained before I let him go back out. I don't want any of the other factions to have him."

"It's Jael you must be wary of. This one he seeks as well. Don't give in, my Master. If you do this correctly, you will be the Master of Jael and he will lie at your feet as a dog."

Cameron smiled in the gloom of Joshua's strange room. This was something he desired greatly. He had decided he wasn't satisfied with his standing in the mutant society. To advance, he had to take Jael down, something that wouldn't be easy, but would win him the respect of all. Joshua had predicted Kimble's coming...and the power he would find. It was this power Cameron wanted desperately to attain.

"Did Kyle tell you his name?"

"Oh? Uh, yes. His name is Kimble."

"The Lover," Joshua whispered softly to himself and laughed.

"What's that?"

"He will make good use of the Club and the pleasures within. Do not be afraid of him. I See that there is more to him than first appears. He is a Channeler of the highest quality."

"A Channeler? Is that good?"

"Yes, Master. That is good."

"What does that mean? Explain it to me again."

Joshua squinted as he tried to think. This area was fuzzy, he hadn't gotten all of it. He used a mirror to see things. What he got back was a picture of Kimble and a series of words. ShaRain, LaRoo, and Channeler. "I'm not sure, Master, but I believe he will be able to use the plasma as a weapon. You must make sure he gets it, that he becomes addicted. It shouldn't be difficult. He is weak. Do not be surprised if he speaks with more than one voice. He is fragmented, damaged. He was this way before Leon struck him, but now those voices have been set free. Your goal will be to stabilize him and bend him to your will. As a precaution, Kyle should be warned of his condition. We do not want him to be frightened."

"Kyle isn't easily spooked. I'm afraid if I tell him Kimble's crazy, he'll back off."

"If you are too spare with the facts, you will drive him away. He will distrust you."

"Don't worry, Joshua. I know how to handle Kyle. He won't be a problem."


	7. Chapter 7

(Seven)

Kimble startled awake from a blurry nightmare. He dreamed he had been swallowed up by a ball of fire. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. Morning light was streaming in from a nearby window. Kyle hadn't been gone long. Kimble was just not one to sleep for too long. He found himself on a bed in a large one room studio apartment. The buzzing in his head was gone and he didn't feel so screwed up anymore. He was incredibly thirsty and he got up stiffly to shuffle over to the kitchen sink. He found a glass and poured himself some water. He drank it down greedily. It was cold and sweet and revived him a little more. He jumped when he heard Leon come out of the bathroom.

"Well, well," Leon said, a nasty grin sliding across his mouth. His teeth were jagged and mean looking. His eyes roamed over Kimble's naked body and didn't approve. "Sleeping Beauty awakes."

"My name's Kimble," Kimble said, not understanding the reference.

Leon made a small plasma ball and bounced it lazily in one hand. "Whatever."

Kimble saw the orange glowing ball of plasma and locked on it just as he had Remy's cards. He couldn't explain his fascination. The plasma had made him sick, but now he wanted it again desperately.

Leon noticed. "You want this, huh? Little 'hair of the dog'?"

"What?"

"You want this or not?"

"Yeah."

"Show me how much."

Kimble grew wary and stepped back a little. "How?"

Leon shrugged. "I dunno... Bark like a dog."

Kimble smiled, he liked games. He barked and waited.

"That sucked. Do it again."

Kimble barked and then howled, getting into it.

"Jump up and down. Howl for me, baby!"

Kimble jumped up and down, spreading his wings. He barked and howled, oblivious to the fact he was being made to look ridiculous. It was his immaturity and desire to please that was working against him. After weeks of feeling unaccepted, he was happy just to have someone interact with him, even in such a vaguely humiliating way. He was rewarded when Leon finally tossed him the pea sized ball of plasma. Kimble caught it quickly, startled by his own need. Even such a small dose was fairly potent, he felt the heat of it pour into him and fell to his knees, moaning and shaking with orgasmic pleasure. This wasn't the fiery inferno from the night before, this was heat and energy that made him tingle and shiver with joy. It aroused him like nothing else and he wanted to fuck like crazy.

"What do you think you're doing!" Kyle shouted at Leon, storming into the room. He had just returned from the store and his hands were full of groceries.

Leon flinched. "Nothing. He wanted some more so I gave it to him."

"Do I look stupid to you? I saw what you were doing with him. Get away from him!" Kyle ordered, pushing Leon back with his power. Leon shrugged and walked back to the table to sit.

Kyle looked down at Kimble who sat through the whole argument without a sign of hearing it. Kimble lifted his head to meet Kyle's eyes. He was clearly intoxicated all over again and loving it. He started to laugh and the drunken, deranged nature of it made Kyle sick to his stomach. He had no tolerance for drug use among his crew and this was why. It simply made folks look stupid. "Come on, Kimble. Back to bed."

"You cummin' with me? I wanna fucks ya so bad." He laughed even harder. He was visibly aroused and started fondling himself in his delirium.

Kyle recoiled in horror. It wasn't the invitation, he'd lived in enough big cities long enough for that not to be his first time. It was the fact that Leon was right behind him and heard him perfectly.

"Ewww!" Leon said, his disgust all too real. "Joshua never said he was a faggot!"

"He's not," Kyle said, trying to cover up the impossible. "He's stoned. Don't give him any more plasma. It's freaking him out."

Leon stood up in anger and powered up his fists. "He's not the one! No way would a little faggot boy be the ShaRain! He's goin' down!"

Kyle stepped in front of Kimble defensively, rudely toppling him to the floor. "Wait! Don't be stupid! I just spoke to Cameron! I'm taking Kimble over there tonight to see Joshua. It's the only way to know for sure."

"No way is any faggot boy stayin' 'round me, Kyle! I'll kill him!"

"It was a mistake! Look at him!"

Kimble was still sprawled on the floor. He was distracted now from playing with himself and was holding his hands in front of his face, looking at the sunlight from the window streaming through his fingers. He was wiggling them and laughing like an insane child, his arousal replaced with wonder. His mind was hopelessly gone.

"See?"

Leon backed off, wiping his chin with a trembling hand. He turned away and sat down again in a huff. "What did ya bring me for breakfast?" he asked eyeing the bags Kyle had brought.

Kyle set the bags down carefully on the table and gave Leon his food. He tried to ignore Kimble who was tripping out and not being very quiet about it. Kimble was singing slurred Siskan gibberish and giggling. Kyle wanted Leon out of here in the worst way, but he knew Leon wouldn't go. Cameron wanted him here as a spy and a power source for Kimble. He would have to just put up with him.

He heard Kimble gradually quiet and pass out. He went over to him and picked him up, again surprised at how light Kimble was. He lay Kimble out on the bed and covered him up again. Kimble whimpered and curled up as if he was in pain. He might be receptive to the plasma, but that didn't mean it was good for him.

Kyle sighed. What a pain in the ass this was turning out to be. He had to get Kimble back to the Club as soon as possible. He would let Kimble sleep and bring him later, when it was dark. Until then he would babysit and be patient.


	8. Chapter 8

(Eight)

After they returned from Anya's, Fallen, Logan and Remy checked in with Charles to see if there had been any news of Kimble. The Professor had sent two teams out to spy on Cameron's penthouse as Remy had suggested -- Jean and Rogue, and Warren and Kurt. They had camped out on opposite sides of the building on adjacent roofs. So far there had been no word, but it was still early. Logan gave Charles a quick run down on what Anya had said. He left out her remarks about Crazy John and Remy was silent on the matter. He didn't have a clue what all that had been about but he had a feeling they would all find out sooner or later. It wasn't really his business, not just yet.

After the information was shared, Charles dismissed the others but held Remy back. "I can see you are worried, Remy. Can I help?"

Gambit stood pensively at the Professor's window, looking out at the driveway as if he expected Kimble to pull up in his Jeep, apologetic for an unplanned joyride. "Non. It's jus' dat 'e's out dere wit no one lookin' out for 'im."

"Why didn't you tell me he was sneaking out?"

" 'Cause I knew you wouldn't understand," Remy replied without facing him.

"You never turned in your report on Kimble like I asked. Please, talk to me. Tell me about him so I can understand. Tell me who you think he is."

Gambit turned and looked back at his mentor, his eyes tired and sad. He took a deep breath and told the Professor everything. He explained about Kimble's playful and flirtatious manner before they had even left Cerise, how he'd been upset at Fallen's mistreatment by Valentin and how he looked after Seth. Kimble had reacted badly on the ship, the violence between the people on board and the shock from being jerked out of the system were probably to blame. Kimble needed to be happy to okay. He had to be played with and used properly, he had to be loved and cared for as if he were a real live creature, not a machine or a dead end hologram like they had in the Danger Room. Kimble was very real. Remy hoped the Professor understood and tried to be clear about it. The Professor nodded and Remy continued.

He told him about Kimble being stabbed when he tried to save Maylee's life and how he'd come to Kimble's rescue, never expecting the trip through Wonderland that followed. He went through Kimble's memories, glossing over his sexual romp with Young Kimble, but doing his best to describe Kimble's empathic gifts and how he went out of his way to help the Siskans who had been sick and suffering. Kimble needed the constant use and intimate contact with others. He fed off of it and was lost and lonely while he'd basically been ignored by everyone here. Fallen's neglect of him had been particularly painful and Remy's platonic love for him hadn't been enough to make up for it. This is why Kimble had gotten into trouble and Remy had covered for him while he was sneaking out. He never would have let Kimble go if he had known how much danger the pilot was in.

Remy felt lost now, responsible. He understood how those parents felt who's kids had been kidnapped. Kimble was out there somewhere, hurt or damaged somehow. He didn't have his big brother Remy with him to make sure he was safe and free from harm. Kimble was like an innocent child and Gambit's biggest fear was Anya's prediction of Kimble's corruption. Remy was already concerned enough about Kimble's mental state before he had left, the last thing he wanted was for Kimble to be wrecked any further.

He didn't always say these things directly, but the Professor knew what he meant. Charles was inwardly impressed with Remy's concern. It showed a maturity that Remy had been hiding, evidence of personal growth. The man before him now was not the boy who had first come here four years ago, full of piss and vinegar and little more than a punk looking for his next thrill. Gambit had come a long way and had traveled some of those miles very hard.

Charles remembered well when Gambit first came to be with them. Storm had found him and brought him into their little fold. Gambit had come for the adventure of it, but later embraced Charles' dream for reasons of his own. Charles felt horrible when he learned that Rogue had dumped Gambit and left him behind in Antarctica. He wasn't traveling with the team at the time and had been unable to stop her from leaving him. He had been furious when he found out. He had spent a lot of time preaching tolerance and she had blown all of that off in her anger. Later when they went back in a feeble attempt to rescue him, Remy was gone. The thief had been rescued by some Russian sledders and returned to New York after a year of self imposed exile, thin, worn out and hardly alive from his soul being ripped apart. He snuck into the Professor's office and came to him on his knees, crying and begging for forgiveness. He felt horrible about his terrible crime and wanted only to make up for it somehow. He had to do something to stop the screaming in his soul. He was a walking dead man, an empty shell with nothing left to keep him together.

Of course Charles had taken him back, how could he not? This man was young, his crime committed as a teenager. Gambit wouldn't give up his reasons for what he'd done, but was clearly in need of redemption. Gambit had come to him that first day of his return, down on his knees, and lay his head in the Professor's lap like a child. He cried and cried, a shattered child begging for help, while his mentor gently petted him. Charles told Gambit how to save himself. He could stay here and work for peace, he could save lives. Lives saved for the lives lost, he had said and Remy never forgot, it was a constant hum in his mind ever since. Remy had cried then for a while longer until he got all of it out and then slept there with his head still in the Professor's lap. He felt secure and wanted for the first time in a year. When he woke a short time later, they never spoke of it. Gambit just went back up to his old room, his head down and his eyes low, submissive and contrite.

Gambit's return didn't go well with some of the others. Angel had been especially vocal, he held Gambit responsible for the loss of his wings and wasn't about to have him back without a fight. Warren's original wings had been replaced by then with Shi'ar prosthetics and he was relearning how to fly, but that wasn't the point. He had suffered horribly and complained vigorously.

The biggest surprise in the whole mess had been Wolverine. The man had stood by while the others complained and bickered, but he was oddly silent. _What do you have to say about this?_ Charles had asked, using telepathy for privacy.

_There ain't gonna be no peace in this world without fergiveness, Chuck. You taught me that an' I figure it's true. _Logan had replied _Gambit's saved my ass more'n once when he could've just walked away with none the wiser. Best ta keep him here anyways, keep 'im outta trouble. We got enough enemies without addin' this one to their teams. Don't worry about the others, I'll look after him._ And the man had kept his word. He stood in Angel's way, not letting Warren hurt the thief. Warren had just been released from the hospital then and still deep in therapy. Gambit's return hadn't helped. Things got ugly and Warren moved out to stay in one of the other houses abutting the property. It was only just recently that Warren had returned to live under the same roof as the thief he despised.

Since Gambit's return from exile, Charles watched as Remy recovered from his ordeal and attempted to regain some normalcy. Gambit often volunteered for risky missions, putting his life on the line willingly to save others regardless of the outcome. Lives saved for the lives lost, yes. Gambit would never forget. He had become responsible in the sense that he would do anything to help the team, even if it was recklessness with his own life. He had become someone who genuinely cared about other people. The boy had become a man.

Charles didn't have to be a mind reader to see Remy's pain and guilt over Kimble's abduction. Gambit was concerned about Anya's prediction which led the Professor to believe the woman had some credibility. They would have to be careful.

Gambit looked at him now, his eyes teasing. "What you t'inkin' now, patron, ey? Surprised dis boy even care 'bout sumptin' other dan 'is next score?"

Charles laughed. "I know you better than you think, my Cajun friend. There's hope for you, yet."

"Si bien. Dis jus' be our secret, oui? Don' want it gettin' around Gambit's gone soft."

"No worries."

Gambit just grunted another laugh and walked out. Scott passed him by on the way in.

Charles regarded his new arrival with the same thoughtfulness as his last. Scott was one of his first students. Kimble thought of him as the Professor's Second and that wasn't too far off the mark. Scott Summers was the team captain, the one making the big decisions out in the field. He was trustworthy and dependable, but unfortunately a little cold and stern on the outside. That was a result of always having to be in control of his power. Without his glasses, Cyclops could easily kill and maim. That kind of destructive power demanded constant vigilance.

"They have anything of value to report?" Cyclops asked, trying to sound casual.

"Yes. It seems that Kimble is not as harmless or worthless as we may have thought. He is being sought out by others. They think he has a valuable power and they will stop at nothing to take it for themselves. What worries me is Jael. He is seeking only the violent destruction of everything around him. I fear what Kimble could become in his hands."

Scott scowled.

Charles turned his chair slightly to better look at his team leader. "What?"

"I still find it awfully hard to believe Kimble could be anything that anyone wants. He's like a little kid. This has to be some kind of mix up, a case of mistaken identity."

"I realize that you don't approve of Kimble's rambunctious nature, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't go after him with any less enthusiasm."

"Maybe he's better off where he's at. He wasn't happy here." Scott remembered how Kimble had been before he left, all low and skulking about. It had made him feel a little guilty for yelling at him earlier, but the pilot simply had to learn that rules were necessary and important in a facility with so many other people in it.

"That may have been so, but he's in danger, Scott. Remy is very worried and that concerns me more than anything. He must be brought back."

"Is Gambit hiding something?"

"Only his great affection for the pilot. The two of them share a kind of bond that neither one of them truly understands, I think. Remy's fear is real enough, though. I think we may have carelessly let Kimble slip away from us and I wish to put that to rights. Besides, anything that interests Jael enough to send Sabretooth out looking worries me greatly, indeed. Gambit said Anya told them there was some kind of Game involved and that Jael is an active player. We need to learn more about this. I want you to gather as many of our people as you can. I want Cameron Bishop's building covered from all sides at all times."

"We have two teams out there watching now already."

"They must be relieved. If Kimble doesn't show up, we may have to take more drastic measures, but for the moment, all I want is surveillance. Work it out with Wolverine."

"Yes, Professor."

Cyclops left and the Professor was left alone with his thoughts. He felt a sense of terrible dread. The idea of some game being played out there in his world frightened him. So many times he had sent his teams out to wage war against these idiots playing stupid games of power, always trampling over innocents in their wake. So unnecessary. So stupid. So horrifying in that it kept happening. What would this world have become if he hadn't intervened so many times. Was this his role, a mutant policeman? If the real people knew what he had sacrificed on their behalf would they thank him or lock him up?

_Enough of these thoughts, old man. They accomplish nothing. _

Charles rolled away from the window and returned to his desk, planning his next move.


	9. Chapter 9

(Nine)

Kimble came out of his stupor, feeling miserable. His belly ached and he was thirsty all over again. He sat up and rubbed his face with his hands. He felt like garbage. What was happening to him? He didn't even know what day it was. He stood up on rubbery legs and shuffled over to the sink. He drank some more water, but it didn't really help him like before. He looked around him, he was alone and felt suddenly scared. He walked briskly to the nearest window, hoping to just jump out and leave, but he was grabbed from behind. "Where do you think yer goin'?" Zander growled sharply. "This party's only juststarted ta git interestin'."

-------------------------

Kimble shrieked and woke up in a strange bed. It was dark now, night time. In his second plasma induced stupor, he'd lost another whole day. He stood up too quickly in response to his dream and swayed as a spell of vertigo rocked him. Gentle hands steadied him. "Easy, son. Where are you going?"

Kimble fell back against Kyle. "I gots ta go home. I cain't stays here."

"You're safe here, no one will harm you."

"They don' know where I'm at. Fallen's gonna worry 'bout me."

"Who's Fallen?"

"My Mistress. She takes care a me."

_Mistress? That was an odd word_, Kyle couldn't help but think. "I'm sure she's fine."

"You gots a phone I kin use? Aw, man...I don' even know the number fer the house!"

Kyle did but he wasn't about to offer it. Instead, he asked, "Do you want to go someplace with me?"

Kimble looked up at him. "What kinda place?"

"Someplace fun."

"I dunno if I'm up to it."

"There's girls there," Kyle whispered suggestively.

"What kinda girls?"

"Girls who like to play."

Kimble suddenly felt better. "Really?"

Kyle led the pilot to the bathroom and helped him clean up a little. After a nice warm shower, Kimble felt much better, refreshed. He wasn't dizzy anymore. He could tell the plasma had changed him somehow, but wasn't afraid. He'd gone through this with the Ristle overload and he had survived that, too. If anything, that change had made him stronger. Maybe this would as well. Kyle rummaged through his closet and tried to find some loose clothes that weren't too big.

Kimble saw his efforts and tried his best to help. He closed his eyes and concentrated, willing his legs to straighten and his wings to retract inside of him. Nothing happened.

"What?" Kyle asked when he saw Kimble's perplexed look.

"I kin pull my wings in. I mean, I useta be able ta do that. Nuthin's happenin'."

Kimble concentrated again, squinting. Again, nothing happened. Feeling a little scared now, Kimble tried to shift skins into his woman skin. Nothing. Feeling a little panicked, Kimble stepped back and shook his head. "Naw...don' tell me!"

"Relax, Kimble. What's wrong?"

"My skins ain't workin'!"

"What do you mean by your 'skins'?"

Kimble shook his hands. "This. My skin. What I looks like. Fallen made me this way. I gots three skins. A girl skin, a human skin and me. This is the only one workin' now. Them files gots corrupted or sumpthin'."

Leon had been loitering in the kitchen, but he now came in, drawn by Kimble's racket. He'd heard the whole exchange and couldn't make sense of any of it. "I don't get it. What's he talking about?"

"Later," Kyle said to Leon impatiently. He remembered how Kimble had looked human before and understood now what was going on. He could deal with Kimble, but not with Leon around. He tossed Kimble some underwear and a pair of black thermal pajama pants, they were the only thing he could find on such short notice that would be able to wrap around Kimble's cat like legs. He gave him a shirt as well, but had his doubts, Kimble probably wasn't going to be able to wear it because of his wings, not without hacking it to pieces first anyway. He turned to Leon and said, "We're going to the Club. I'm going to fly Kimble there."

"What about me?" Leon whined.

"I need you to run an errand for me," Kyle lied, just wanting Leon gone. He herded the boy towards a window and a wrought iron fire escape with a small catwalk balcony. "I'll drop you off outside."

Leon nodded with a pout and let Kyle drop him down to the street. Kyle made up something quick for Leon to do and sent him on his way.

Kimble dressed as best he could and waited upstairs, trying to fight down his panic. Clearly he hadn't escaped his melting unscathed. It could be worse, he tried to console himself. At least he was trapped in the skin he favored the most. Heck, he could have been stuck fully clothed. What a horror that would have been. No fucking for him then. Being a Siskan Courtesan demanded he would think in those terms.

He gave up on the shirt and climbed out on the black metal fire escape, looking up at the stars. It was so beautiful up there and he missed Fallen terribly. He turned when he heard Kyle return.

"What's wrong, Kimble? Explain to me about the skins," Kyle asked, just wanting to get Kimble to talk and calm down. He hadn't liked the forlorn look on his face.

"I ain't real like I tol' you. I gots more'n one way of lookin'. At least I did. Leon fucked me up or sumpthin'. I'm stuck like this."

Kyle understood some of that. He knew what skins were, he had used a computer before and played his share of games. Skins were used to change the appearance of gaming characters. Somehow Kimble perceived himself as the same. Shape shifters were valuable and the suggestion that Kimble had this ability made him that much more appealing. "Maybe it's just temporary. I know some people who might be able to help you," he soothed.

"Fallen kin fix it." Kimble said, not really sure. He figured if she'd made the pilot skin in the first place, she could repair this.

"Who's Fallen?"

"She's my Mistress. At least she used ta be when she wanted me around. I miss my Fallen. I thinks of her when I see the stars."

"Why?"

Kimble smiled. "Cuz we fly up in space," he replied simply.

Kyle laughed. "Um, sure. Okay. You ever really fly yourself?" He had seen Kimble flying haphazardly about during the fight at the bar and wondered just what this new find was capable of.

"Naw. I mean, I kin do it but I suck at it. I cain't fly like Fallen can."

"It's not an easy thing to fly. It takes lots of practice." He walked up to Kimble and stood behind him. He negotiated around Kimble's wings and put his hands on Kimble's waist. He startled when Kimble giggled and twisted a little, playing around. Kimble was ticklish and his laughter was infectious. Kyle cocked his head and snickered, amused by his childishness. "Silly. Hold still. Put your arms up."

Kimble did as he was told. He breathed in the night air and closed his eyes.

"Good. The trick is to relax. Feel yourself in the air."

Kimble took another deep breath, and then gasped as Kyle put his hands back on him and lifted him up. They were flying up in into the night.

"Keep your eyes closed," Kyle whispered. "Just feel it."

Kimble relaxed and lay his head back, his arms still out. This was so wonderful, being flown like this. He had forgotten that Kyle could fly and this was a wonderful surprise. He was learning quickly that the only thing better than flying, was flying with someone else. They glided through the air like two strange long legged birds and Kimble was thrilled.

He started to laugh with joy and Kyle laughed with him. Kimble whooped and hollered, enjoying himself immensely. Kyle couldn't help but smile. It had been a long time since he had flown anyone with such a zest for life and no shyness about enjoying it. He found his own spirits being lifted and he dragged out their flight even though the Club wasn't that far. He flew Kimble up high and pointed out some of the sights of the City, much to Kimble's delight. He saw the Statue of Liberty and the Brooklyn Bridge all lit up and beautiful. Kyle laughed, happy he had pleased the pilot. He enjoyed Kimble's company the longer they were together. With all the serious company that he kept, Kyle didn't have many around him that could make him laugh. Kimble's innocence and quick laughter warmed him. Maybe having a childish Kimble around wasn't going to be as bad as he thought.

----------------------------------

Kyle landed with Kimble on the penthouse patio, just as Gambit had predicted he might. The lights were all on, but Cameron would be down in the Club, a few floors below. They passed through the house quickly, Kyle herding Kimble along. The house was filled with rich and lavish things, much more expensive than the antique trappings of the Xavier Mansion. Kimble kept wanting to touch all the pretty things as he passed, but Kyle wasn't ready to make excuses to Cameron if his new charge broke anything. They made their way to an elevator and came out on one of the Club floors that was exclusive to Cameron's Freedom Kings. There was a large dance floor and a hallway leading off to some unseen area.

Kyle gave Kimble a gentle shove towards the bar where a crowd of people were dancing. "We have a couple hours before Cameron wants to see us. Walk around, visit some of the rooms. Have fun."

"What do I do?" Kimble asked. He felt awkward being left like this.

"Whatever you want. I want to talk to Cameron before I bring you to see him. Don't worry, I'll come get you after. See that woman over there?" He was pointing to a trim, pretty blond in a skimpy black evening dress. "That's Melany. She's a hostess and she'll get you settled."

"Where are ya goin'?"

"I told you, to speak with Cameron for a minute. Don't worry. Relax. I'll find you." Kyle didn't allow further argument, but walked away and left Kimble on his own.

Kimble made his way towards a small crowd of people on the dance floor. He was the only one alone and he felt out of place. He went to the back wall where it was dark and leaned against it, watching the dancers. He had missed where Melany had gone and was now a little lost and disoriented. He was dressed only in the thermal pajama pants that Kyle had given him and he stuck out like a sore thumb here. Everyone else either had a black uniform on like Kyle's or wore evening dress clothes.

He didn't notice when Melany came up behind him. She had spotted him quickly as a newbie and came right over. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You must be new here."

Kimble startled a little at her touch and grinned sheepishly. "That obvious, huh?"

She laughed. "Yes. My name is Melany. Let me help you." She took his hand and led him towards the hallway in the back. He now saw it had many doors with strange symbols on them. "This is a very special place and we have a lot to offer. So what are you?"

"I'm a pilot," he answered for lack of a better response.

"No, silly! What is your sexual preference?"

Kimble laughed. This he had not expected. Apparently this was some kind of sex club...or at least he was hoping so now. "I dunno. I likes evrathin', I guess."

"Ah, the adventurous type," she teased. She took him to a purple door with a strange and elaborate symbol on it. "This'll do."

Melany opened the door and Kimble's eyes opened wide. A pile of twenty or more people lay writhing on the floor, tangled and wrapped up in each other as they played their sexual games. All genders, all possible combinations were romping around. Kimble flushed and almost lost his breath, he hadn't seen this sort of thing since Siska. He stepped inside the room, never hearing Melany chuckle and shut the door behind him. Two women came to him. They undressed him and took him down into the pile, not the least bit put off by his pilot's body. In fact, he could see there were others here that could never be considered truly human.

He felt a little strange here in this room because this time he was the client instead of the server. It didn't last. He found his groove quickly and soon fell back into his old rhythms. He laughed and spilled a fine looking blonde woman into his arms. He kissed her and lost himself in play, forgetting everything and everyone else.


	10. Chapter 10

(Ten)

Cameron Bishop stood with his arms crossed, his face purple from the light of the video screens. He stood in front of a huge bank of viewing screens in his office, watching Kimble romp. "Well, he certainly is talented," he commented with a soft chuckle.

Kyle sat in a backwards chair, his arms resting across the back. He didn't approve of the cameras, but was in no position to argue. He wondered how many films Cameron had of him. He was a frequent visitor himself in the many rooms of the Club. He had brought Kimble here for inspection, but wanted to talk to Cameron first. He had expressed his reservations about Kimble's being this protector as Cameron had suggested. He was just too child like and innocent. Well, at least on the inside. What he was doing now, no mere child would even consider. Kimble could romp and play with the most skilled in the purple room. It had been something of a surprise.

Cameron hadn't addressed Kyle's concerns. He was watching the screens and being very quiet as he mulled over what Kyle had told him. The fact was Cameron had hyped up Kimble's status so he would be readily accepted and accommodated here among his crew. Joshua had warned him that Kimble would be unusual and might not integrate as easily as other recruits.

"Are you sure he's the one?" Kyle said, interrupting the older mans's thoughts.

"I think so, yes. He fits the description Joshua gave us. Look how beautiful, the Mark," he commented, pointing to the Honor Sword. Cameron cocked his head and squinted as he watched Kimble play. "How does he do that...?"

Kyle cleared his throat and looked away. He hadn't seen what Cameron was joking about and wasn't enough of a spy to probe any further. "He seems to have some shape shifting ability, or at least he mentioned it. He's telekinetic. He can fly."

"I see. What are his ambitions?"

"Not much more than you see there."

"He's not interested in his powers?"

"I wouldn't say that. He loves to fly."

"Good. Let's put him in the mule pool. The more he's out and around, the faster he'll find the LaRoo."

"How do you know he'll stay?"

Cameron laughed. "I'll give him unlimited access to the Club. That should satisfy him."

"He'll want to see his family."

"Leon will bind him to us." Cameron paused. "I want you to be his handler."

"You know I don't work like that. I just bring them in. The rest is up to you."

"This is a special case. He trusts you. I could see this as you came in. He listens to you. Do this for me. I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important."

"No."

Cameron turned away from the screens to scrutinize him. "Why not?"

"It didn't work out so well the last time."

The last time Cameron had asked this of him there had been trouble. A handler was a special instructor, one who worked one on one with a powerful new recruit that was considered a risk to others until they were better trained in the use of their power. Kyle had been a handler only once before. He had been given a lovely young female telekinetic and dove into his role with enthusiasm, believing he could do the job well. What happened instead was they fell in love, a result from working so closely together. She wasn't stable and when Kyle tried to back out, she was distraught and committed suicide. It wasn't pretty and Kyle was never the same afterwards. He refused to be anyone's handler ever again.

"This time will be different, Kyle. This is much too important to leave to anyone else. This is the culmination of all of our work."

"Don't you think you're relying too much on what Joshua has told you?"

"He hasn't failed me yet."

Kyle considered his options. He looked up at Kimble on the screen. Kimble lay sandwiched between the lovely blonde and another young man. Kimble's eyes were half closed and dreamy as he moved his body among them. The other two seemed spellbound by him, trapped in place by his arms, his legs, his telekinetic power. They were breathing all together as one being, connected by Kimble's sparkling whiteness. Kyle found it hard to equate this sexual animal with the childish personality he knew was there inside of it. It just didn't seem right. Kimble's mouth parted in a silent gasp and they came together, all at once, shaking and quivering. Kimble kept moaning and trembling over and over like he wouldn't stop. He was so beautiful to Kyle as he relished his passion as intensely as he had the flight to get here. Kyle shook his head, unbelieving. He couldn't do this. He couldn't sucker in another beautiful creature only to see it destroyed by Cameron's ambitions.

Cameron saw Kyle's silent refusal. "If not you, someone else. It will be easier for all of us if you handle him."

"You don't need me."

On the silent video screen, Kimble relaxed and laughed. He turned his head to kiss the young man behind him. The man whispered something and turned away. He'd been content to give Kimble a tumble, but wanted nothing more. Some of the light went out Kimble's eyes. He wanted to cuddle after, but his partners left him. Cameron noticed Kimble's look of disappointment. "He needs you."

"No he doesn't," Kyle replied. He stood up and put the chair back in its place. "You want me to play babysitter. I don't work that way. He's yours. You deal with him." He got up and walked out.

------------------------------------------------------

Kyle found Kimble downstairs in one of the red velvet booths. He was laying across the bench, his legs crossed and comfortable. He'd just showered in one of the lavish public bathrooms here and his hair was still wet. His eyes were half open and unfocused as he dreamed of some other place. He had a half drunk bottle of beer on the table and a lit cigarette burning unnoticed in the hand that rested on the table. Melany was a perfect hostess and had seen to his needs, pouring him drinks and giving him a pack of cigarettes to make him comfortable until Kyle returned. He didn't look up as Kyle sat on the bench opposite him. Kyle snapped his fingers in front of Kimble's eyes. "Hey?"

Kimble didn't startle and Kyle realized that Kimble wasn't dreaming, just terribly sad.

"You feel okay?"

Kimble nodded, his eyes heavy and mournful. "Feel pretty good actually. Just stepped out fer a minute, is all." Kimble's voice was anything but happy and Kyle knew something was wrong.

"Where did you go?" he joked, trying to get Kimble to lighten up.

"Siska."

"What's at Siska?"

"My father. I miss my father. Just ain't the same with him gone."

Kyle was confused. Was Kimble talking about sex? "What isn't the same?"

Kimble just looked at him, his mouth smiling now, but his eyes still terribly sad. "My father wuz the one what made me. I toldja I wuzn't human. I ain't even real. Never wuz. He made me, taught me, fucked me, loved me. Just now an' again, I remember what it wuz like ta be loved fer real and I feel all alone."

Kyle didn't quite get it. He remembered Kimble had said he had no parents. "Your father?"

"Not like yer father. I ain't never had no mother. He took some chemicals an' used his magic ta makes me. I wuz a program. Stupid fuckin' hologram what never took to the idear I wuz anathin' less than real. Sumpthin' happened ta me an' I got changed. Now I am real and still nuthin's better. My father is gone an I'm still all alone."

Kyle was quiet through Kimble's startling rant. Some of it he knew from what Cameron had told him, but the rest was a bit shocking. Still, Kyle's job was convince Kimble to remain here and ever the master at what he did, Kyle's voice was perfectly calm and reasonable as he said, "You're not alone, Kimble."

"Yes, I am. Didn'cha see me? I know you wuz watchin'. I could see the cameras. Neat trick, huh? How I kin gits them ta peak all at the same time like that? None a the other 'grams could do that, just me. Sheyman said it wuz cuz I kin feel 'em in my mind an' he's right. I kin sees inside people sometimes, but only when they're real close like that. He said it wuz a gift. If that's so, how come no one ever stays with me?" Kimble's voice ended in a plea, his eyes threatening tears.

Kyle shook his head and patted Kimble's hand, asking for patience. "I can't answer that because I'm not sure what's going on with you, Kim. I don't know you that well."

"Heh, I don't even know me...not no more. Wuz in fight on the way here, I got stabbed. Sawr my father in a dream. Sez ta me, ya cain't die just yet. Got you some work ta do, son. An angel, my LaRoo's gonna come find me. I sawr my father just as clear as I'm lookin' at ya right now. Fergot just how beautiful he wuz... I just had me a real good time right now but I feel all empty inside cuz he ain't here with me. Real fuckin' waste. Nuthin's been right since he left me."

Kyle considered what Kimble just told him. He had just confirmed what Joshua had predicted to Cameron. Kimble was waiting for the LaRoo, he must be the one. This was said with no prompting on Kyle's part. He was inclined to believe now Kimble was the ShaRain and that Joshua's strange prediction would come true. What disturbed him was Kimble's loneliness and lack of spirit after what should have been an uplifting experience. Kimble wasn't predictable or stable. He needed looking after.

"Why did he leave you?"

"He got sick and died. I wuz only 'bout ten or so. Kept gittin' passed around after that, handler ta handler. Grew up real fast. I fergot about Sheyman's love and what it wuz like ta be cared for like that. Don' know why, but it just came on me tonight. I really miss him."

"It's okay to miss people, but you shouldn't be brooding over it. Why don't you tell me a little bit about how you got here. You also mentioned this person, Fallen. Tell me about her."

"All right."

Kimble briefly outlined who Fallen was and how she had found him shelved in a Dognan warehouse and brought him back to life. He left out the parts about Zander and the Clan. Those were private things and best forgotten. He went on to describe how Fallen's attempted suicide changed him forever and left him sort of stranded. He wasn't a hologram anymore. He didn't know what he was. Just that he needed energy as food to survive and had new powers he was only just learning how to use. Now he'd gotten fried with the plasma and didn't yet know just what that was going to do to him, if anything. He wasn't happy that he couldn't shift. It worried him that he might be changed in other ways. He left out his internal trip to his private Black Room filled with the fractured remnants of his former selves. He wasn't sure what it meant and wasn't sure how Kyle would take it. He had made a new friend and didn't want to frighten him away or make him leave.

Kyle listened to Kimble's fantastic science fiction story with a kind of disbelief. If he hadn't seen Kimble melted and then resurrected himself, he wouldn't have accepted any of it. Now he wasn't sure how much was truth and how much was fantasy. He had to admit, his curiosity was peaked. Maybe he would stick around after all and make sure Kimble was properly taken care of. He wouldn't volunteer to be a handler, nothing would make him go that far again, but he would put Kimble on his team and train him with the others. He knew Cameron would readily accept the offer as a compromise. Maybe he could keep Kimble out of trouble. Not all of Cameron's people were good teachers or kind.

Kyle stood and held out his hand for Kimble to take. "You ready to meet my boss?"

"Uhm, shure. I guess," Kimble said. He wiped at his face and crushed out the cigarette that had burned out long ago. He rose and followed Kyle down the hallway to Cameron's office.


	11. Chapter 11

(Eleven)

Cameron's office was huge, a suite unto itself. It was a corner office and had two huge windows looking out at the bright lights of the city. Another wall was covered in television cameras giving full view of the Club and its many floors. A full sized bathroom was off to the back and Kimble could see an open door leading off to a large meeting room as well. Cameron himself sat behind a humongous oak desk, his feet up to the blotter, a cigar burning merrily in a brass ashtray. He beamed a magnificent, toothy smile and rose to greet his new arrival. "At last. What a treat to finally meet you."

"You wuz expectin' me?" Kimble asked, confused and a little frightened.

"Of course. I have an advisor with the Sight. It was your destiny to join us. What a thrill to have you here." He gave Kimble a snug embrace, squeezing him and letting Kimble touch him.

Kimble couldn't help but be warmed by this man's enthusiasm. It was in sharp contrast to all the rejection he'd been getting lately. Even the Professor hadn't embraced him like this. He sat Kimble down in a large comfortable leather chair and asked him many questions, mostly about his life on Siska and his time spent with the X-men. It didn't take him long to see Kimble hadn't been happy there.

"Do you have any idea why you didn't fit in there?"

"Not really. Guess they don't like me cuz I likes fuckin' so much."

Cameron was unfazed by his candor, in fact, he chuckled a little at his honesty. "I know why you didn't fit in and it had nothing to do about sex. You're different, special. Some people fear that, but I don't. I can look right at you and see the potential there just waiting to be discovered and used. Tell me, what is it you want to do with your life?"

"I dunno. Have some fun, I guess. Make other folks feel good along the way."

"What did they want you to do?"

"Be quiet. Stays outta trouble."

"To do nothing?"

"Felt like it, sometimes. They wanted me ta be real still. Not make a sound. They wuz chokin' me," he ended softly, turning his eyes away.

"Well, I don't want you to be quiet, Kimble. I want to hear you roar with the rush of your power. I'd like to help you discover just how powerful you are and what you can do with that power. Sound good to you?"

"Shure, but I cain't stay here. I needs the Ristle ta stay alive."

"Yes, of course. You need energy on which to feed. Leon can provide that for you. You can use the plasma?"

Kimble shivered a little, remembering how wonderful the plasma was. "Yeah, I kin use it. But Leon don' likes me cuz I likes ta take my pleasure with guys. He thinks it's bad when it ain't."

Kyle was a little surprised by Kimble's statement. He thought Kimble had been too tripped out to remember what Leon had said. He hoped there wasn't going to be some kind of ugly tension between those two. It would be sure to cause problems.

"Don't trouble yourself about Leon, son. He was abused when he was very young. It's difficult for him to understand love in it's many forms. He is working hard on it. I have such high hopes for him. Perhaps when he sees you're harmless, he'll see he has nothing to fear."

"I kin helps him?"

"Perhaps. Would you like that?"

"I likes ta help people."

"Good. Stay here with us, then. We will train you and you can work for us. In return, we will feed you and give you unlimited access to this club."

Kimble's eyes brightened. "I kin come here whenever I wants?"

"When your work is done, yes. Will you stay?"

Kimble was quiet as he considered his response. He moved away and walked up to one of the big corner windows and looked out at the night. He bowed his head down and held his hands to his chin, the perfect picture of contemplation. The two men watched him, but let him think in peace. Cameron really had no idea what he was asking. If Kimble were to stay, he would be giving up a lot. His family, Remy. These people were not so easily left behind. He had to really think about this. He turned his inner eye to the circle of light in the Black Room of his mind.

"What should I do?" he found himself asking the others. He simply had nowhere else to turn for guidance.

"This could be good fer us," Zander growled, deep and low. "I'll jus' bet they'll teach us how ta fight. You gots theClub, all the fuckin' ya want. What could be better?"

"Remy loves me. He'll be sad if don't come home."

"They wants us," Lakotashay replied in her tiny child's voice. "Remy don't.None of them X guys did"

"Remy wants us. Jus' not like that," Kimble insisted.

Kyle stood dumbstruck. Kimble has spoken his words aloud --- all of them. He was holding a three way conversation, having a grand old time by himself with no clue of what he was doing. He was so lost in his conversation, that he hadn't realized he was speaking aloud. He was very quiet, not all of his words could be heard. The three voices were distinctive enough, though. His memories were as files and the three voices unique and varied. There was the Quitter's tiny childish whisper, the soft spoken Lover, and the deep gravel of the Punisher.

Kyle started to respond, shocked by what he was witnessing, but Cameron raised a finger to silence him. He seemed to be aware that Kimble was having a private discussion and not really talking to them. Kimble was quite still, his lips moving quickly as he debated softly in the three voices, unaware that the barriers between the three selves had been so melted away, he was speaking for all of them and could be heard and observed.

Kyle's eyes were open wide. This was just too creepy. He cocked his head and tried to make out what was being said, but the voices were just too soft. He looked at Cameron, alarmed, but his boss was watching Kimble intently with predatory eyes. Once more Kyle was sure Cameron knew more than he was letting on and it pissed him off. This was just too unfair. How could he be expected to handle Kimble without getting all of the facts?

"We should be where somebody wants us," 'Shay insisted, wanting to be heard.

"We hafta train, Kim," Zander pushed. "Let's stay. We kin jus' leave if we hates it."

"All right," Kimble said, his own desire for acceptance and a real home too strong to be ignored.

Kimble stepped away from the window and looked up at Cameron. "I wants ta stay but I gots ta call home. They's gonna be lookin' fer me."

"No problem," Cameron lied smoothly. He shot a look to Kyle that's message was all too clear. This was not going to happen and Kyle would have to see to it. Kyle nodded numbly, unhappy.

Kimble smiled. "Well, all right then. Guess I'll stick around a while."

"Good. Now I've got someone I'd like you to meet."

They made for the door. Kyle grabbed for Cameron's arm to take him aside, but the older man just shushed him. "We will talk later my friend, have no worry. I am glad you changed your mind and will look after our guest." He just smiled indulgently when Kyle shot him a look of anger. They had not discussed this. Cameron just knew. It pissed Kyle off, he hated to be seen as predictable.

"If you keep hiding things from me, I'm out of here," he hissed, keeping his voice low so Kimble wouldn't hear. The pilot was too busy checking out his new surroundings and paid them no mind.

"Don't worry. We'll have a little meeting after you get Kimble settled in. Now I want him to see Joshua. I can't wait to see what Joshua has to say about him."


	12. Chapter 12

(Twelve)

It was late that same evening when the Professor sat in his office, gathering information and trying to formulate some kind of plan. He had received some good news at least, the teams covering Cameron's building that night reported in that Kimble was seen flying in to Cameron's penthouse patio an hour ago, just as Gambit had predicted he might. He was with Kyle and seemed to be all right. He was talking and walking on his own although no one could hear what was said. They disappeared into the building and weren't seen again.

Charles immediately called a meeting in the War Room, gathering Fallen, Henry and the members of the Blue team that were not watching Cameron's building -- Wolverine and Bobby sat at the table while Nightcrawler and Scott lounged against the back wall. He told them what was said.

"Oh, thank God!" Fallen said when she heard the news and covered her face to keep from crying. There were no words to describe the level of relief she was feeling. She couldn't wait to tell Seth his brother was okay.

"Guess our friend is more resilient than we thought," Henry said, a relieved smile on his face. "Although I can't imagine what a Med Scan of him would show. I fail to see how he came through something like that unscathed."

"Maybe Kennedy was wrong," Logan grumbled.

"I wasn't wrong," Kennedy replied smoothly, coming in the room with a grin. He was dressed in the usual leather and biker boots, but he smelled of cigarettes and the Club.

"Hey," Logan greeted with a smile, happy to see him.

Kennedy returned the smile, not the least bit offended by Wolverine's remarks. He tossed a pack of photos on the table. "Took them about an hour ago."

Kennedy was a regular not just at the sleazy bars he and Gambit visited, but also at some of the bases of the enemy, in this case Cameron's Club. His cooperation with the X-men was Kennedy's greatest secret, very few knew he was really Xavier's spy. He was in constant contact with the team and had gone inside Cameron's Club the moment Warren and Jean spotted Kimble arriving up top. He'd managed to work his way upstairs just in time to take these pictures with a tiny hidden camera. He'd kept out of Kimble's sight, but not out of range. They showed Kimble moving through the club and being led off by Melany.

"Nice pants," Bobby snickered. Kimble was dressed in the pajama pants and looked very much out of place.

"What happened to his jeans?" Fallen asked, squinting at the photos. "He always makes his own clothes. He wouldn't need these."

"Perhaps he was damaged, then," Henry replied.

"Maybe he's just got real bad taste in clothes," Bobby said, unable to resist.

"Where's he going?" Cyclops asked. He was looking at one of Kimble being led away.

"The Purple Room," Kennedy said with a smile. He laughed when he saw Gambit snicker and look away.

"What's the Purple Room?"

"It's a co-op for the multi-talented. Looks like your boy knows his way around," Kennedy replied, winking at Remy.

"Excuse me?" Scott said irritably.

Kennedy was quick to answer, and just as quick to tease, "It's a sex Club, Cyke. That's not a room for beginners. Not a place for you, I'm sure."

A dark scowl crossed Scott's face, but he got the point.

"How'd you get these so fast?" Wolverine interrupted. Arguing wasn't going to help here, although he smiled at Kennedy's comment. Any dig at Scott was fine by him.

"Had some friends cook them up for me and I gave Nightcrawler here a jingle. He 'ported me over here, saved me the cab fare," he explained with a soft chuckle at his joke.

Logan smiled at that, glancing at Kurt who gave him a small salute. It was true that Nightcrawler's ability to teleport had made things much easier, especially when it came to time critical deliveries.

Charles ignored the banter of his crew and looked over the pictures, frowning unhappily. Kimble seemed okay, he was smiling, but the Professor was still worried. He was concerned about what Remy had said about Kimble being naive. Clearly he was being coerced and manipulated, his sexual needs being used against him. More upsetting than that was how Cameron seemed to know so much about Kimble. He prayed Cameron didn't have a spy here and was using some other means to gain his knowledge. Betrayal was a hard thing to overcome.

"We should keep two teams in place until we can figure out our next move," Charles said wearily. "One team will watch the penthouse, another on the ground. We may have to use some of the newer recruits for this. It'll give them some field experience, but no fighting. If something goes down, the new people stay behind. I won't sacrifice any of the kids for this."

"We goin' in den, patron?" Remy prompted. He was abusing yet another piece of gum, unable to keep still in his anticipation. He was thrilled Kimble was okay and was impatient to bring him back.

"Yeah, that's real smart, Cajun," Wolverine growled. "That place is crawling with Cameron's people and we don't know where he is inside. Not a good idea."

"D'accorde. Den we sneak in."

"We're all too well known," Cyclops countered. "We won't get past his security."

"Fallen's got cloaks."

"Too risky," Wolverine said. "He's got people that can sniff us out. I like a good brawl as much as you, Cajun, but we need more than what we've got."

"Let's just have some patience, people. We can work this out. The main thing is to gather as much intelligence as we can," Charles said, nodding in agreement at Logan. He went on to say that Kennedy was a familiar face seen in all the clubs. He would be the inside man, inside the Club itself, watching the lower level to see if Kimble should leave. It would be best to try and take Kimble on the outside if they could get a chance. The stakeout teams were organized and shifts set up. Fallen, Logan and Remy would take the first shift in the morning.

The meeting broke up and the room emptied out. Remy stayed behind, leaning on the big table and staring at the Professor with his red, glittering eyes. "Sittin' on some rooftop ain't gonna be good enough fo' me, patron."

"Patience, my good thief. All in good time. We will bring him home. Once we've set a goal, there hasn't been anything we haven't accomplished. This will be no different."

Gambit nodded and walked out, his head down.


	13. Chapter 13

(Thirteen)

Kimble walked into Joshua's dimly lit apartment, already awed by the mystical surroundings. The room he was in was dark, the only real light came from the sconce candles which were still lit, even though some feeble moonlight could be seen through an open window. Joshua only had them open at night, the daylight was much too bright for his sensitive eyes. Tapestries and paintings of wizards and mythical beasts were hung in between the lights, adding to the atmosphere of having gone to another place. There was no regular furniture, only large cushions for seats and candle stands all over. The floor was carpeted in rich fabric, but Kimble couldn't tell the color, it was too dim. He went to where he was told and sat on a cushion in front of a low table.

Joshua came in from a door that was disguised in the darkness. It was as though he had melted out of the darkness itself, startling Kimble a little. Cameron's mysterious councillor was wearing the dark robes as usual and slowly pulled back his hood in an exaggerated, dramatic gesture. Kimble gasped sharply when he saw Joshua was an albino. He peered at Kimble with his pink eyes and demanded, "Show me the Mark."

Kimble cocked his head up at him. "What?"

"Your tattoo," Cameron said gently from behind him.

Kimble stood up and arched his back as Cameron's strange advisor circled him. He rotated slowly, amused by Joshua's curiosity. He grunted a small laugh when Joshua reached out and ran a finger down the length of the Sword. He liked this man's touch. He took a deep breath and flexed his abdominal muscles, sniffing up at Joshua with interest.

Joshua smiled at him. "I want to see you."

"All right." Kimble dropped his pants without a care and stood proudly, showing off his naked beauty. He liked the way Joshua was looking at him. The robed man paced around him, touching him here and there lightly, impressed with his pilot's body. Kimble was growing aroused and didn't try to hide it.

"You are beautiful," Joshua purred.

"Thanks." Kimble tracked him with his eyes. "Lay with me," he demanded in turn boldly, enchanted by Joshua's otherworldliness. He reached out with his hand to Joshua's pale white face, but the albino stopped him.

"I am not for you. Another awaits," Joshua promised, not the least bit thrown by Kimble's proposal. He seemed to have anticipated Kimble's response and smiled.

"Kind of a shame. I likes yer skin. Yer all white like me."

"And what are you?"

"What do ya thinks I am?" Kimble countered playfully, his eyes teasing.

"You are the ShaRain."

"That's right. **La ShaRain natay LaRoo.** Guardian Angel. Least that's what I calls myself when I'm foolin' around."

"You are the ShaRain and this is no joke," Joshua said firmly.

His seriousness frightened Kimble a little and his smile faltered. "What do ya means?"

"You are looking for the LaRoo."

"No. An angel's gonna come lookin' fer me. LaRoo, it means angel. I gots sumpthin ta do but I won't know what it is 'till my angel comes."

Joshua glanced at Cameron and shrugged. Same thing only different.

"What I don' unnerstand is how yous even know about it. I was told b'fore I got here an' I ain't told nobody 'cept my Fallen."

"Joshua knows lots of things," Cameron said enigmatically. Kimble was a little spooked by Cameron's ominous tone of voice and he rushed to say something comforting. "Don't worry, nothing bad will happen to you here."

Joshua spoke before Kimble could say anything else. "Tell me. What does the word "Channeler" mean to you?"

Kimble was quiet, but his insides were jumping. The word had sent a shock right through him and then waited as if he was supposed to do something now, but he had no idea what. Channeler. That word meant something to him, it had to, to affect him like this. He frowned. "It makes me feel funny."

"Funny how?"

"I dunno. Kinda scared."

Joshua came up to him and lay both his hands over Kimble's chest. He closed his eyes and whispered the word again. Kimble trembled again as that strange vibration coursed through him and a flood of images poured into Joshua's mind. The albino smiled, happy now. He had Seen what he needed to know, what had eluded him in his visions until now. He looked up into Kimble's face and said, "What do you know of swords?"

"I hates 'em," Kimble replied and backed away. Zander swirled restlessly from within, rattling his chains. He knew what a sword was good for. Yes, indeed. "Alls they do is kill people."

"Easy, son," Kyle said, giving Joshua a hard look. He didn't know what was going on, but this was too spooky. He didn't like Kimble's fear. It was as if he had actually seen swords in use and was terrified. Perhaps he had. They knew so little of Kimble, all that was certain was that Kimble wasn't human and wasn't even from around here.

"A sword is a useful tool. I should know, I have a couple myself. I could teach you to use them," Joshua suggested.

"Don't wanna hurts nobody," Kimble replied, lowering his eyes.

"For fun then," he insisted.

_Kimble, _Zander growled. _You knows a sword is weapon._ _We's suppozta learn it all. Evrathin', includin' this._

_I hates_ _the sword, ya know what it does. It killed all them guys on Nine, I cain't._

_Then let me._

_Can ya kills y'self with a sword? _Lakotashay asked, breaking up the conversation.

Kimble was horrified. "No!" he shouted then backed up and said more quietly. "I don't thinks I wants ta learn no swords."

Cameron noticed Kimble's discomfort. "Don't worry, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. Just think about it, okay? Nothing will happen to you. We want to help you learn your powers and become all that you can be. We will discover just what a Channeler is together, how about that? Stay and join us."

"Why're ya helpin' me?"

"That's what we do. We help mutants who are lost or own their own. They join us and help our cause," Cameron explained.

Kimble was reassured by the familiar sound of this and settled down. It was the same as the Clan had done back on Cerise. Kimble had helped Fallen rescue countless alphas from the Dognan pens. The alphas would then join the Clan and strengthen them with their powers. It had seemed to work out pretty good for all involved then, he had no reason to question it here. It was also the same rhetoric he'd heard at Xavier's. Maybe he couldn't hang there, but he might be able to do better here, especially since Cameron wasn't put off by his need for the Club. He might actually find true acceptance. It was the only thing that could make him willingly walk away from Remy, the one and only thing. One thing was certain though, he had no intention of learning the sword. That was a promise.

Cameron continued to work Kimble, saying that which he knew the pilot wanted to hear. "We can see you are special and we will help take care of you. All we ask is that you help out on one of our teams. You can stay with Kyle, he has an opening now. Would you like that?"

"Yeah," Kimble answered. "Kyle's been real nice ta me."

"Leon is on his team now as well. He has agreed to give you all the plasma you need. See? This is how we all help each other here."

"All right. I'll stay, I guess," Kimble said. He was still a little spooked and uncertain. "Are ya shure ya wants me? The last group I was with wuz pissed off at me alla the time me cuz I wants ta play so much. I don' want no more trouble."

"The Club will take care of that. We want you to with us. We accept you for who and what you are," Cameron said carefully, choosing the words Joshua had told him to use when he had predicted Kimble's coming. He had been told of Kimble's sexual needs and insecurities. He saw these things as tools to be used to control this wonderful new potential weapon.

Kimble beamed, hooked in. He was happy now at the thought of being someplace where he was wanted and could be useful. "Well, all right then. I'll help yous with whatever ya want."

"Good," Cameron said, clasping his hands. "I'll have Kyle settle you in. I'm sure we have a spare bed someplace for you."

"Gail has no roommate," Joshua said, blinking at Cameron and smiling ever so slightly.

"That'll do."

"Sir?" Kyle said and waited. It wasn't customary to bed co-operatively, in fact it was discouraged. Gail was waiting for the next female recruit, not a man, certainly not a sexual creature as Kimble was. It could only lead to trouble.

Cameron just held up a hand. "That will be fine."

Kyle sighed and shook his head. What was going on? All the rules were being broken for Kimble, why? There was more going on here than it seemed. He would have to have a long talk with Cameron about this and how Kimble should best be handled.

------------------------------------

Kyle brought Kimble upstairs to where the Freedom Kings lived and did their work. He showed Kimble around, showing him the training rooms and the gym. They did not possess the technology the X-men did and had to rely on more conventional methods of training. The gym was huge and filled with large obstacle courses and workout equipment. There were a few mutants huffing and puffing away, running the courses without using their powers. Kyle explained that they took maintaining their physical condition very seriously. They never knew when some freak might put a restraining collar on them and their powers were negated. Cameron wanted his crew ready for any contingency.

Kyle took Kimble down to the living quarters. They all shared a large common room, but most of them hung out in the Club in their free time. He said they were a little short on space at the moment and Cameron decided that he should bunk with Gail, she was the only one without a roommate at the moment. He left Kimble at the door to his room, patting him on the back and saying he should try and get some sleep. It was now quite late and they wanted him to start with classes the next morning. The training here was run like a formal school with rules and everything. He gave Kimble a scrap of paper with a schedule on it, smiling gently when he saw Kimble make a face.

"I ain't so good with schedules," Kimble groaned.

"Just do your best." He patted Kimble on the back again and walked away.

Kimble walked in the room slowly, feeling a little out of place in this large dormitory. He saw an empty bed and clean night stand and figured this must be the place where he was supposed to go. Kimble sat down on the bed, feeling a little lost. He didn't own anything except the pants that Kyle had given him and it made him feel a little sad.

Gail's side of the room was cluttered and well lived in, not unlike the work station he used to have in the Lucky Dragon's control room. She didn't have any nude pictures, but did have a lot of statues and figures of naked women in sensual, sexy poses. They were sleek and beautiful, everything she wasn't. She was a dragon lady in the fullest sense, a lizard in vague human form and would never be normal again. Her bed didn't have the usual blankets, her bed clothes were made of rough canvas and thick wooly cloth because her scales would shred ordinary blankets. Her own clothes were made of the same rough materials. She didn't have a regular full uniform like the rest of the team, she was limited to a basic bra top and pants, but she did have an arm band with the King's logo on it.

The girl herself was sitting on her bed and looking with amusement at his lost and forlorn expression. She was her usual half human, half lizard self, her scales glinting in the light of the room. She had been forewarned about her new room mate and hadn't put up much of a fuss. Most folks moved in and moved on, finding her gruesome appearance too much to handle for long.

She smiled at him in her toothy way. "Nothing to put away?"

He shrugged and tugged on his clothes. "Jus' me, I guess," he said with a playful smile.

"Light traveler, huh?" she teased with a laugh. She was surprised he wasn't making excuses to flee or even acting uncomfortable around her. "Well, nobody should have a bare night stand. It's bad luck." She said, feeling oddly generous. She stood up and brought him one of her small statues. She set it carefully down on the small stand and was rewarded with a small Kimble smile.

"My name is Gail." She offered her hand, curious if he would take it.

He did. "I'm Kimble. I 'members you from the other night. 'Bout the only thing I can remember." he said with a laugh.

"Yeah, well. I'm hard to forget," she said a little sadly.

She expected him to say something about how ugly she was, most men did, but instead he said, "Yeah, I likes the way yer scales catch the light. They's kinda shimmery, ya know? Like feathers."

She cocked her head at him in surprise. Someone who wanted to have a conversation with her, how rare. How nice. "Are you hungry?"

"Don't eat regular food like yous guys," Kimble said. "I eats energy, plasma. Like Leon makes. But thanks fer askin'."

"You can't eat regular food? That sucks."

"Oh, I kin eat. Jus' don hafta, is all."

Gail reached behind her to her night stand and found a box of Twinkies. She held one up. "I'm a sucker for junk food. You like?"

Kimble grinned and came over. "I like."

He sat next to her on the bed and munched his treat happily. She took his class schedule and clicked her tongue. "Wow. Newbie stuff. I don't miss this."

"I ain't never been in a formal school."

"I can tell," she said with a laugh at his poor English.

He just snickered at her. "I ain't dumb, though. I knows lotsa things."

"Oh? Like what?"

"I kin fly a space ship."

She looked at him seriously for a moment, then busted up laughing.

"What? Ya don' b'lieve me?"

She couldn't answer, she was too busy giggling.

"Oh, shure. That wuz my best best pick up line," he joked. He should've known he wouldn't be taken seriously. They didn't fly ships here, not that he saw anyway. The Lucky Dragon was unique.

She patted his shoulder, careful with her hands. Her scales could cut. "You're cute, you know that? But it's late. You should try and sleep."

Kimble went over to his bed, but he was too excited to sleep. He snuggled down and Gail shut off the light, still laughing. He wasn't even close to being sleepy and would snicker at her, keeping her laughter going until she finally threw a pillow at him. He settled down eventually, watching her glow shimmer in the dark. She was happy now, a much different color than when he'd first walked in. It pleased him and he closed his eyes, contented. In a few minutes, he was fast asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

(Fourteen)

Logan was sitting at the breakfast table when he heard the door bell ring. He ignored it until it rang four times then got up with a growled complaint. He quieted when he remembered that they were short handed now because of Jael's little prank.

"Stupid fuckin' Jael, fuckin' asshole..." He was still complaining when he opened the door, but stopped in surprise when he saw a pretty redhead waiting on the steps.

She blushed uncertainly when she caught the last half of his sentence. "Oh, excuse me!"

"Sorry, ma'am. That wasn't meant fer you." He grinned at her and she smiled back, something unexpected. Most female strangers were wary of him, their instincts to flee hard to overcome. She was very pretty. "Can I help you?"

"Yes. My name is Karen Richards. I'm looking for Charles Xavier. I'm here for Molly."

Wolverine blinked in surprise. He didn't know who he had expected, but this striking young woman wasn't it. Most shrinks he'd been subjected to were wrinkled and old, clinically bored wastes of time. This young woman was fresh and pretty, obviously a student and not the full fledged doctor he'd believed her to be. She was casually dressed and carried a worn out leather satchel. She smiled at him uncertainly, given pause by his staring at her.

Logan smiled at her quickly, embarrassed that he'd been looking at her like that. "Molly? Don'tcha mean Carver?"

"Molly is Carver's real name. May I come in?"

"Sure." Logan backed up and let her in. He breathed her in, instantly loving the smell of her. She was wearing Charlie, a scent he favored. She was a city girl and not from Salem Center. She didn't smoke or drink and she'd eaten at a donut shop for breakfast. She was young and healthy. He shook his head slightly to clear his thinking. Sometimes his nose ran away with itself. He didn't want to frighten her.

She noticed him sniffing at her even though he had done it very subtly. It was something Molly did. It didn't bother her, but told her something about him. She worked with mutants as part of her schooling and wasn't afraid of them. She had always regarded them as people with gifts. She believed Molly could be tamed and this man only confirmed that. He was obviously a feral creature much like Molly was. It was in the animalistic way he'd assessed her.

"Is the Professor in?"

"Yeah, Charlie's around." He sniffed again, searching. "This way." He led her down a hallway and into an office.

"Oh hello, Karen," the Professor greeted, rolling over to shake her hand.

"Charles." She bent and kissed him.

"Logan, this is Karen Richards. We met last year while I was giving a speech at the University. She's quite bright, very inquisitive."

"That's a polite way of saying I'm into everybody's business," she said with a laugh and a carefree toss of her head. "I'm very direct."

"Then that's something you and Logan here have in common," Charles replied with a chuckle. The Professor had noticed Logan lingering in the doorway and smiled inwardly. He could see Logan was interested in their guest. "It's been too long since I saw you last. Logan, why don't you bring Karen down to see...Molly, is it?"

"Yes. That's her name. The SHIELD guys called her Carver because she slashed up everything. It's not her true name and I'm sure she resents it."

"She don't talk much," Logan growled.

Karen smiled at him indulgently. "That's because she can't. The injury to her throat was too severe. She can make noises, grunts, but can't articulate clearly. She can sign. Hadn't you noticed?"

Logan groaned inwardly. Oops. Guess she wasn't just some feeb after all, wringing her hands.

"Regrettably, no," the Professor said, letting Logan off the hook. "We were amazed by her mental defenses. None of our telepaths could really reach her. That's very unusual."

"Yes, she is very strong. It's what has helped to keep her alive."

Logan looked at the Professor. "Is Karen clear ta go to the lower level?"

"Yes, Logan. It will be all right."

Logan smiled again and graciously swept his arm out into the hallway. "This way."

Logan walked Karen through the house and to the lower levels, his eyes straying to her face, to her soft white hands. She walked with a confidence that matched his own and her eyes saw everything. She would catch him looking at her and smiled at him, finding it funny. He had never been a subtle man.

Logan scanned his hand and led Karen down to the holding cells. He kept smelling her, trying not to be too obvious about it. He couldn't help but be attracted to her with her red hair and kindly smile. She had certainly brightened his day. His step was light and jaunty as he strode into the holding area. He nodded a greeting at Iceman on guard.

"Bobby, this is Karen Richards. She's gonna be helpin' us out with our new guest."

Bobby smiled at her. "I hope you can read minds, doc. She hasn't said a peep."

"She can't speak. She's had an injury to her throat."

"Uh, oh. All right," he replied, rolling his eyes in a playful, 'Gee, aren't we stupid' gesture and she laughed.

Wolverine looked in on Joseph as he passed by. Joe was sitting up, staring off into space, a small line of drool hanging from his chin. His eyes were glassy and his mind elsewhere. It was time to get the Clansman out of here and he would speak to Henry about it first thing. He waited for Karen to comment on the zoned out Clansman, but she kept quiet and made her way to Molly's room. Logan cocked his head in surprise when he heard Carver bark at Karen. It was a low throaty bark, almost like a male lion calling out to its mate.

"Good morning, Molly," Karen said with a wide smile. "How are you?"

Molly signed rapidly with her hands, grunting here and there for emphasis.

"Better now that you've seen me, yes. I'm glad to see you too. How about we get you out of here?" She turned and smiled at Logan, willing him to obey her request.

Logan walked to the security desk and clicked a button. He spoke with the Professor and got permission to let Molly out as long as she stayed with Karen down in the lower levels. They could visit Henry in the Lab and have an early lunch. Logan grinned, happy to have the excuse to stay near their new guest and gleefully let Molly out. As soon as she was freed, Molly flew into Karen's arms and gave her a huge hug.

Karen laughed and squeezed her back. "Easy, girl. Don't get too excited. How about we take a look around? When we come back I'll help you clean up a little. Look at you, you're a mess," she complained, tugging on Molly's tangled hair. She laughed and they headed off to the Lab.


	15. Chapter 15

(Fifteen)

Sabretooth was not having a good day. He was still pissed off over the botched Kimble job. That had taken him weeks to set up and then he watched as three million dollars worth of bounty went up in flames. Damn. He was going to use that money for a well earned vacation for him and his crew. They'd been pulling a lot of jobs lately and could all use a break. Now he got a note from Jael saying he wanted to meet with him. What exactly was he supposed to say in his defense? It wasn't his fault Kyle's spastic little plasma boy got a little carried away.

He sat in a comfortable metal chair in a roadside café sipping a nice little cappuccino, feeling the warm sun heat up his shoulders and enjoying it. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, taking in the warm air and scents of the City around him. Creed didn't feel pleasure often, it was something elusive and when found, savored. He was a large man, almost six feet and heavily muscled. He gave off an air of danger and as folks came here to sit, they left a ring of empty tables around him, subconsciously protecting themselves.

Creed was crazy, completely certifiable. He was an unstoppable killing machine and it came out in his posture of arrogance and superiority. He was comfortably dressed in expensive leather, the only clothing that made him feel natural. He also wore a long trench coat to hide his concealed weapons (he always carried at least two guns at all times) and had a pair of soft leather gloves to match. He looked a little like Gambit at that moment, wearing the garb of sneaks and thieves.

He looked over the pathetic norms around him, knowing he could wipe out half of them in less than a minute if he had a mind to. He wore the gloves to cover his claws whenever he was out in public. He been well trained in the use of all weapons and explosives. He knew how to arm a nuclear missile or disarm it if needs be. He had always been curious what it would be like to see one of those babies go off. To walk the streets of the charred city and view the dead, laughing. Like Wolverine, he was quite old, but hadn't been around when the first two atomic bombs had been detonated. He was too busy pulling secret service jobs in Russia at the time. What a shame. He did get to Nagasaki later, but by then things had been pretty much cleaned up.

Like Wolverine, Victor Creed was quite old, over one hundred years old. His regenerative and healing powers had kept him alive and in good health through all of his scraps and troubles. He looked little more than thirty-five or so. He had been born into abject poverty, raised by a cruel and embittered father. He had lived in a one room shack with a dirt floor as a bed and a bottle of whiskey his only comfort. He didn't have the luxury of a childhood and was put to work alongside his father as soon as he could walk. His father was the grounds keeper at a huge mansion and so he worked alongside him instead of playing happily with other children his own age. He recalled vaguely two playmates he did spend some time with when he was very young, but they were dim memories, unfocused. He probably could bring them up with sharper recall if he tried, but wasn't really motivated. Whoever they were, he hadn't played with them for long. As soon as he was strong enough to work full time, out to the fields he went.

He didn't own his first pair of shoes until he was sixteen and those he'd stolen off an even less fortunate beggar than himself. His whole life had been one long continuous nightmare since the day of his birth and he didn't really know what it was like to be loved or live a normal life. He had known few kindnesses and those were long ago and forgotten. Those simple facts were the most basic cause of his madness. His mutation caused him to be more feral than most humans and denied the basic foundations of control and caring for others, he had evolved into the madman he was today.

Sabretooth was an alpha mutant, his powers being superior to most and he was well trained in the use of them. He possessed animal keen senses as did Wolverine and had long talon like claws at the ends of his fingers. He was stronger than most men his size and could slash through most anything. He also shared Logan's ability to heal rapidly. They had a long standing dislike for one another in spite of once having worked closely together on the same Weapon X team. He viewed Logan as weak because he refused to give into the beast as he himself had.

Both men had been lured into the risky business of soldiering as was fit for men of their abilities. Unfortunately it also led them to the same Weapon X program that shattered their minds and robbed them of their memories. The program had been restarted a couple of months ago and Sabretooth had been captured and had his memory restored as an incentive to rejoin his former affiliation. Creed had accepted, drawn in more for the large payoffs they offered than for a bunch of stupid memories he wasn't sure what to do with. So what if he remembered the face of his father, a man who had beaten him without mercy. That was one he could have done without, that and a pathetic, horrible childhood best forgotten.

He now performed odd jobs for the new Weapon X, being very well paid of course. An assassination here, a kidnaping there. He was too violent for the regular roster and was given his own team. He was autonomous as long as he behaved and didn't get too carried away with the blood. The Kimble job had been a side project and not part of Weapon X.

Creed startled as a pretty young woman accidently bumped into his table. "Oh! Excuse me!" she giggled.

"No problem, Ma'am," he growled back, swallowing the urge to gut her. It just wouldn't do to spill blood out in the open like this. She was quite beautiful and managed an uneasy smile at him before moving away as quickly as possible.

He watched her go, angered at the disturbance, yet aroused by her fine skin and large green eyes. It had been a while since he'd been with a woman, the downside of working too hard. He knew there was no way he would ever get a creature as fine as her without a fight and he just wasn't up to a stalk and rape today. Not when there were much easier targets.

He paid his bill and rose, walking over to his car. He moved around the country a lot so he was driving a rental purchased under a false identity. It was just as well. This one probably wasn't going to get returned. Once he set his mind on something, it was hard to change it. He drove off to one of the less desirable parts of town and soon found what he was looking for. Fresh young meat, thumb outstretched, hooking in the middle of the day. How sweet. He lured the girl into his car with promises of a nice big tip and they drove off somewhere quiet.

The poor girl got more than she'd bargained for. Creed was a man ruled by violence. Normal patterns of behavior were beyond him. The concept of making love for mutual pleasure was something lost to him long ago, he only knew how to abuse and rape. He had her half dead from being beaten before he ever got around to actually fucking her. Creed's pleasure came from the rape and torture of his victims. The beating was his idea of foreplay. He took her roughly, muffling her screams with a massive paw of a hand and didn't really care when she passed out from the abuse. He raped her viciously three more times before he grew tired of her. He was cursed with a high metabolism and had an oversized libido to match. He was insatiable once aroused. He dozed off lightly in between rounds, rousing when she started to wake. For the girl it was a never ending nightmare.

Her only relief came when he finally killed her. He never allowed any of the girls he used to live. He'd fathered a child only once that he was aware of. It was accidental but had been enough. He'd been seduced by the mutant shapeshifter Mystique and she'd escaped before he could kill her. The monster they had produced had been born a normal human, named Greydon Creed. Mystique's little joke, giving him the same last name of his father. Once Greydon found out his parents had been mutant criminals of the worst sort, both assassins, he organized an anti-mutant terrorist group called Friends of Humanity.

The Friends of Humanity was a shadow group of mutant hunters and spreaders of anti-mutant propaganda and lies. They were largely responsible for most of the hate felt by mutants and drove most of the regular mutants into hiding. They were now lobbying for mutant registration and holding camps. To protect society, they claimed.

Sabretooth had been horrified and disgusted by the cowardly acts committed by his son and he killed him, vowing never to allow such a thing to happen again. Creed could later be tracked by the trail of dead prostitutes and unfortunates he picked up. The sad thing was, his martyred son had only fueled the Friends of Humanity's enthusiasm and they were still around, skulking in the corners, slaughtering all the mutants they could find, calling it self defense against a new race destined to oppress the norms. Creed made a point of killing any of their members he found as well, drawing out the pain just to hear them scream. It wasn't that Sabretooth cared so much about other mutants that he wanted to protect them, he was just embarrassed his son had been so pathetic.

Creed got out of the car, now dripping with blood. He'd slashed the girl down to ribbons and feasted on her liver, the best part of the kill. He had parked in a deserted dockside alley and had total privacy. He stripped down leisurely, taking a moment to savor the smell of the blood soaked into his clothes. His mind was calmer now, his destructive urges sated for the time being. He opened the trunk of his car and found a set of fresh clothes and a large plastic bottle of water with some travel wipes he could use to clean up a little. He never allowed himself to be unprepared for anything. He cleaned up and changed clothes and reapplied his guns, donning a long coat of light material over himself. He set the timer on a small explosive device in the trunk and walked off, carrying a small black duffle bag.

He hadn't walked off far when he smelled Razel pop up behind him. He turned and regarded Jael's teleporter with disdain. "Yer early."

"Something's come up."

Creed looked past him to the car. "Well, let's go, then. That car's rigged ta blow in ten minutes."

Razel turned and looked at it nervously. "Um, sure. Whatever."

Razel lay his hand on Creed's shoulder, trying to hide his disgust for this man. He had to touch his passengers for transport. He could see traces of blood that Creed's quick wash up job had missed. He knew all about Sabretooth's appetite for destruction and his sexual deviancies. He had no doubt there was a dead body in that car. His only curiosity was whether it was a woman or a man. Creed was known to apply his torturous touch to either gender. He was driven by an insatiable thirst for blood and didn't discriminate.

Razel closed his eyes and worked his magic, transporting himself and his cargo down to Jael's lair. This was the only method Jael allowed for visitors. No one but his personal crew knew where this den was actually located.

Creed pulled away from Razel's touch, suppressing an urge to shred this one. He never liked Razel, he walked around with an air of disgust for everyone but his Master. Jael was very powerful and Creed didn't dare touch any of his personal guards. Sabretooth wasn't afraid of many men, but Jael was up there on the top of the list. He couldn't explain it, but there was some kind of powerful mystery at work around the man. Creed put up with it because Jael paid very, very well.

He followed Razel down the stone corridors, and like Remy before him, recalled the tunnels of the Morlocks. Now that had been a grand adventure, the hunting plentiful. Creed and the small band of Marauders had slaughtered close to three hundred that day, fun and games to be had for all. Of course for Creed, the most pleasurable moment had been the look on that poor Cajun thief's face when he saw what was going down. How Creed had laughed then, watching Remy's soul shatter for all time. The feeble little boy had tried to stop them and Creed ripped him open, watching his blood spill out over those fine leather boots. He'd licked his claws, tasting the spice of Remy's blood and finding it good. If he hadn't been on the job, he might have caught the boy and feasted on his liver as well, but he didn't get the chance.

He wasn't disappointed to later learn Gambit had survived, it only meant they would meet again and meet they did. Creed had been partly responsible for laying down the seeds of distrust when he acknowledged to the X-men the two had met before. Logan's eyes had squinted, knowing that Creed was scum. For these two to have met before could only mean trouble. No one knew just how much and Creed didn't offer details, letting the pot simmer. When the word later came out of Remy's being booted out of the X-men, Creed made sure the mutant community knew why. Now Gambit couldn't walk among the various factions without being recognized and shunned as a pariah. He was worse than the killers themselves to some. Gambit's only decent company was among the norms who had no clue who he was. How Creed would laugh and laugh every time he skulked in the shadows, watching and smelling Remy's heart break when he was taunted and pushed around. The gift that kept on giving.

Sabretooth paused in his travel and cocked his head as he heard a strange squealing noise and a bizarre white winged creature barreled down the hall and slammed into him. He was surprised to see a tiny female pilot. She had been safely transported from Cerise and was now scampering naked and loose through Jael's cavern like halls without a care. Sabretooth was tall and sturdy, a human brick wall. The tiny pilot collided into him with all the damage to herself, not moving him back an inch. She fell back on her ass, startled, and chirped up at him an a daze. He scowled at her irritably and growled deep and low in his chest, a sure sign of his anger. She quailed, trembling and urinating all over herself in fear. This was no bright eyed, self aware pilot as Fallen was. This one was little more than a human dog and cowered in terror, whimpering.

"Kialay, where are you, damnit!" shouted her handler, a small young man who followed her swiftly. He paused in fear when he saw Creed, a man who's reputation was known far and wide. "Oh, excuse me!"

"What the fuck is that?" Sabretooth growled, pointing a clawed finger at the pilot. She looked vaguely like Kimble but not quite. She was bleached out and tiny, only half of Kimble's size. She certainly didn't possess a Mark or Kimble's ability to articulate clearly.

"Just one of Jael's pets. She got loose."

"Well, get this piece of shit out of my way!"

"Yes, sir!" The man snatched at the tiny, helpless pilot and hauled her away. She followed him meekly, her eyes straying back to Creed's face as if she didn't trust him not to follow her and hunt her down.

Creed looked back at Razel. "Yer boss's got a taste fer the strange, that's a fact."

Razel snorted impatiently, but said nothing, gesturing for Creed to continue down the hall.

Sabretooth strolled into Jael's large meeting room and eased down onto the fur in front of the big wooden chair. He would not kneel, he would die first, but sat comfortably, folding his large legs under him.

"You look well," Jael said, looking down on him from the high chair. "Razel tells me you hunted and fed this morning."

Creed hid his surprise. Razel had been with him the whole time. He had no idea the man was telepathic as well. Either way, his sexual adventures were none of Jael's affair. "What do ya want, Jael?"

"You know what I want. You haven't delivered."

"Yer boy got slagged. He's toast."

Instead of the argument and criticism Sabretooth expected, Jael reached to a stack of papers beside him. He pulled out some photographs and tossed them over. Creed picked them up and saw images of Kyle Franks landing down on Bishop's penthouse patio with Kimble.

"Those were taken yesterday. It seems 'my boy' is more resilient than you realized. I want him picked up."

Creed couldn't hide his surprise. "I saw this guy get melted."

"Indeed. I told you was special."

"Is he even human?"

"Does it matter?" Jael countered evasively.

"Not really," Creed said with a careless toss of his head. He had no further curiosity in the matter, he just wanted the money. He rose, leaving the photos behind. He was familiar enough with Cameron Bishop's territory not to need them. "I'll get right on it."

"Don't be so eager to leave, my friend. I'm not finished with you yet."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I am a forgiving man and I realize that you probably are not to blame, so I'll let you make it up to me."

"Oh, yeah? How?"

"I'll let you in on a little secret," Jael purred, his cat's eyes glinting. "It would seem that Terrel Jacobs, your son's successor, has rented Yankee Stadium. One year from now, on a Sunday. Whatever for, do you think?"

"Friends of Humanity Rally. Couldn't be anything else."

Terrel had succeeded where Greydon Creed had failed. He'd been able to present this terrorist group as some kind of freedom force and was able to promote their beliefs, not unlike the Ku Klux Klan had been able to do. He drew upon the freedom of speech and right to assembly rights under the Constitution and was able to hold these rallies to gain followers. Nothing as large as this of course, but the fellow was obviously using Jael's recent terrorist attacks as a platform and was building strength.

"I suppose I should feel guilty the little twerp is using me to feed his followers but I'm not about to let him stop my work. If something...large and destructive...were to happen at this Rally. Well, my gratitude would reach new heights," Jael said suggestively.

Creed laughed and blessed his luck. This would be an easy job, especially with so much advance notice. He already knew the best way to pull this job. Cloaks and mules and bombs. What a treat. Perhaps a small nuke? He might get his wish after all.

"I can see you are pleased. Very good. Give me a plan and I'll finance it if it's decent enough."

Sabretooth's grin broadened. Was today his birthday? It sure felt like it.

To be continued in The Three of Me.


End file.
